


The Cane and the Living Man

by Voib



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1800's, AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, And a drug addict, Angst, Dark fic, Doctor Dean, Drug Addictions, Evil Castiel, Evil Scientist Castiel, Fantasy, Human Castiel, Jekyll and Hyde AU, Jimmy is a pseudo father, Jimmy is pure and good, London, M/M, Racism, Rating May Change, Rich Dean, Science, Scientist Castiel, Shy Dean, Slow Burn, The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voib/pseuds/Voib
Summary: Doctor Dean Winchester was what was called a well respected man. He did his job, clean and proficient, and left no trace that he was ever there. Unlike a tailor leaving fancy tags sewn in on your shirt necks, Dean only left you with a brief memory and possibly some empty pill bottles. He took pride in his work, yes, but he never bragged about it. Rather, he barely even talked about it.Tonight was no different.A Jekyll And Hyde AU.





	1. Thick Fog

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, between fits of depression I've been working on this beauty. The idea came to me one night when I was sleeping and slowly poisoned my brain. I planned everything out to a tee, so we'll see how this works. Kudos and comments fuel my rein.

The year was 1886 and the slave trade was long gone. Even though Clarissa was contracted to be a servant in the great city of London, she felt more like a slave and was treated like one too. 

It had been a thunderous night, so loud that you could barely think over the thundering rain. Of course, Clarissa’s Master didn’t care much about the young African woman, so she was sent outside into the freezing rain in the direction of the nearest well. 

The rain turned everything into an abstract painting in front of her face but continued to pound upon the earth and create a thick layer of sludge that was mixed up by the wagons driving through it earlier in the night. The street was abandoned now and Clarissa stared up at the night sky, silently cursing it for making her a black woman in a white man’s world. The rain falling straight down make a kind of floating effect like when you stare at a fixed object when riding in a buggy. For once in her life, she felt like she could rise up to the high-rise 5 storey buildings and finally sit higher than some whiney, filthy rich white bastard that had never worked a day in their life. This was short lived because she had become so distracted that she had dropped the wooden bucket that she was carrying. The rain made it so she barely heard the bucket clang onto the cobblestone. It sobered her enough to notice that her clothing was soaked through. Clarissa tossed the thought aside. A free shower is a free shower, right? 

Her master had all but kicker her down the steps of the house into the dark night because he had wanted some warm water for his face that had been much more clean that hers, thank you very much. 

She started walking down the street towards the city well when she noticed a shadow against the soaked brick wall that was coming her way on the other side of the street. She didn’t want about to be sold into the ‘servant’ trade again. She quickly ducked into an alley and slowly peaked around the corner. The man (Why was it always a creepy white man?) was wearing a dark blue, possibly black trench coat and was walking with cane and a limp — very slowly, if she might add — down the other side of the road. His derby hat hid the back of his neck and any chance at identification. 

Clarissa was now leering out of the alley in curiosity. 

Suddenly, a little girl with skin darker than hers ran into the man and was knocked back on her bum, seemingly out of nowhere. The girl looked up at the man in silent horror — possibly realizing what she had done or thinking that she was going to be sold too — and tried to scramble back from the man. In grand movements, the man grabbed the child by the arm and pulled her into an alley. Even across the street, Clarissa could see that her eyes were wild and filled with absolute horror. She struggled to break out of his grasp but she was only of about 7 or 8 years of age, still a small babe. She put up a good fight and Clarissa could tell that she gave her all. Even in the thunderous, deafening storm, Clarissa could tell that the child was screaming, but couldn’t seem to hear her calls for help. 

They slipped further into the alley until they couldn’t been seen at all, seeming to disappear. Clarissa wasn’t about to become a hero of fairy tales, so she made sure it was safe and continued down the street, ignoring what had happened only moments before. 

**———————**

Doctor Dean Winchester was what was called a well respected man. He did his job, clean and proficient, and left no trace that he was ever there. Unlike a tailor leaving fancy tags sewn in on your shirt necks, Dean only left you with a brief memory and possibly some empty pill bottles. He took pride in his work, yes, but he never bragged about it. Rather, he barely even talked about it. 

Tonight was no different. 

Mrs. Sophia Grande had fallen ill with a fever and was finally kicking the bucket. Sophia had been his client for just over a year when the diphtheria had finally gotten the best of her. Her coughs raddled her lungs and left her with pain in her ribs and thick mucus in her mouth that continuously dribbled down her wrinkled cheeks. He knew it was time to say goodbye and to pull the plug. Dean had no more medication to give her. Her immigrant family was offered a low price for her treatment, but they had fallen on hard times like the rest of us. They were only human and Old Sophia was dragging the family down. The wife and children had to constantly watch her instead of being out in the world making money. Dean collected his last payment and shut his leather medicine bag. He made his final goodbye to the sound of Sophia choking on her own spit. 

The rain had instantly silenced the horrid sounds of death and Dean welcomed it. He closed his eyes and let the cold November rain take his mind to other places before clutching his bag tighter and making his was back to his home. The alleys were dark in this part of town due to poverty and misfortune. The Soho district spoke for itself. The cobblestone was more like river rock thrown in sporadic patterns and the houses were all cramped tightly together yet never rose above one storey. Dean kept his head down and his top hat held down with a hand on his head to prevent the wind from whipping it away. He was startled when he ran directly into a man. 

“ _Hey!_ Watch where you’re —“ 

His first reaction was anger, so he looked up at the man but quickly lost his train of thought. 

The man was shorter than he was and bundled up in a black or blue trench coat. His derby hat was a dark black, from what he could tell and likely darkened by the rain. The man kept his beard short and trimmed but it seemed unruly. His eyes were captivating and the brightest thing that Dean had seen all night. But stepping back, the man seemed... hideous. His face was deformed or warped. Something was wrong with the man and yet, Dean couldn’t figure out what. He should have been perfectly normal looking as Dean couldn’t put his finger on anything wrong. 

While Dean was psychoanalyzing both himself and the man he had just met, the man gave him an ugly sneer and continued down the road. Dean stood there shell shocked before realizing that _he was a doctor. He was meant to fix things that didn’t seem right._ So Dean quickly turned after the man and followed him. 

“Sir! Wait!” He hollered into the rain and at the back of the man. He didn’t seem to be listening. He could hear his medicine bag getting all shaken up after every step he took. He really ought to be more careful, he had glass in there, but he didn’t care all that much at the moment. He continued to run after the man but easily caught up — the man had a cane and limp after all. The man sensed his presence and walked slightly faster into a dead end alley with a small door at the back. It was surrounded by brick on either side and parts of the other houses. 

The man stopped in front of the door. “Why are you following me?” He asked in a gruff and deep voice. 

“Why Sir, I was concerned. You look like you needed some medical assistance, it seemed. I am truly sorry,” Dean spoke quickly. He was quite embarrassed from the whole predicament, from his short temper to his chasing after strangers at 11 o’clock at night. 

He quietly turned to leave when the Mister spoke up. “I have a child. She has a hurt wrist. Would you care to take a look at it?” 

Dean turned around and took a deep breath while putting on a small smile. “Of course,” He breathed. 

Dean entered the house and immediately noticed how small it was. It was a single room but it was warm, cozy even. He eyes were drawn to the fireplace and then to a small negro child that had backed herself against a wall and was breathing audibly. 

“Sit down Ophelia, this is just a doctor here to look at your wrist. He won’t bite,” Mister grumbled. It wasn’t in a strict or mean way, he just seemed to talk very harsh. 

“Doctor, you can take off your coat, if you’d like,” he grumbled once again. 

Dean peeled his soaked wool coat off along with his top hat and laid them over a chair in front of the fire, revealing his silk waistcoat and pocket watch. He felt almost a little too trussed up to be inside of the house. The child still looked at him warily from where she was perched on a footrest. Dean took a seat on the loveseat and held his hands out expectantly. She lowered her wrist into his hand and he immediately noticed the wrapping. It was wrapped in a thin linen cloth, also known as poor man’s tablecloth. He gently unwrapped it and noticed that sickly bruising around her entire wrist and how it wasn’t sitting at quite the right angle. 

“It’s definitely fractured,” He added. 

He sat back and pulled his medicine bag onto his lap and pulled out his material for a splint. He set the wooden plank underneath her wrist and wrapped another strip of linen around it as tight as he could. The little girl whimpered in pain but didn’t cry. 

“You were very brave tonight, Ophelia,” Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of pills, “take 2 of these a day if it hurts but only if it hurts a lot, ok?” 

Dean clipped his bag shut again. He could feel the Mister’s eyes on his back but he chose to ignore it. 

“What happened to you, Ophelia?” Dean asked curiously. 

Her tentative voice fell flat in the room. She began with an English accent, “Well mah Master bought me ‘bout 3 years ‘go und jus’ yesterday he got mad at me for breakin’ a China plate when I was a’washin it. He grab me by da arm and he twist it so hard he done broke it. I ran out the house as fast as I could an’ dint look back,” She spoke in a mix of English and negro which made an interesting dialect on her words. “Please doctuh, I don’t wanna go back. Please don’t make me —“ 

Dean shushed her. “Why would I make you go back? You seem fine here as far as I’m concerned,” He gave her a small smile. 

Finally, the Mister spoke up from the shadows of the room, “I found her last night. She was running around in the rain all crazy like. I don’t like children much but she’s quiet and helps me attend to the fire,” He was brief and apathetic but his actions contradicted his words. 

He seemed uncomfortable so he changed the subject off of himself. 

“How much do I owe you, doctor?” 

“Nothing. And If you try to give me anything, I will only refuse. Just keep the brace clean and dry. I’ll be back in 3 days where I’ll check up on how the medication is working and how the bruising is.”

Dean pulled on his still wet but now warm coat, placed hit top hat back on his head, gripped his medicine bag and quietly walked back out into the storm. 

Once again, Dean left no mark but a pill bottle and a memory while he slipped off into the night. 

**———————**

Dean braved his way home in the storm, now calming down, and landed on his front porch. He opened the door, took off his coat and let himself slip into his nighttime ritual. He checked the clock and it was nearing 12:30 in the morning. He slipped into his bed, under Egyptian sheets and atop silk pillow cases and started thinking about what had happened tonight. 

He got out of bed, put his slippers and robe on and sat down in front of the window. The wind made everything howl in his 3rd storey apartment. He looked down into the neighboring Soho district and down into the encased section of the city that never really advanced. It seemed to be suspended in time and never had any of the latest technical advances like the phonograph or the bicycle. 

Dean sighed, stood up and walked away. He slipped back into his bed but he could tell that this would be a sleepless night. 


	2. Deceiving Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _That Mister was a strange one, that was for sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and post on Thursdays and Fridays but I'm unpredictable and I like to keep people anticipating. All mistakes are mine or spell check's on Google Docs.

3 days had passed and not once did Dean stop thinking about the hole-in-the-wall house. Today was the day that he finally returned to check up on Ophelia’s wrist and how the wraps were holding. The most quizzical part of the predicament was whether he should have shown up early in the morning or late at night after his doctorate duties were finished. He assumed that the Mister would be most comfortable at night when Dean couldn't see his face as clearly. There was also the fact that Dean didn't want to be seen as desperate.

The day had been a weirdly sunny one where it was freezing outside and yet the sun deceived you into thinking that it was warm enough to go without a jacket. Dean had stepped onto his porch then immediately traveled back inside for his wool coat. The weather was as deceiving as the Mister’s attitude, all black and white, this and that.

Dean had decided to take a buggy that day because the earth was still slushy and squishy, with torrents of muddy water dripping down the streets. The buggy turned from a smooth ride into a jostling mess as soon as they rode over the boundary between the residential district into the Soho. Dean wished that he had his own buggy so he didn't have to walk everywhere but the reality was that he'd likely never use it. Besides, he had no place to store it.

Dean hopped out and paid his fair to Andrew who had a hurt back last year. He didn't stop for a friendly conversation.

He knocked on the door, which he noticed was made of warm wood and he quietly entered the house with the Mister still holding the door open. The house was much more bright and Dean could see Ophelia attending to the fire which raged at the back of the house. While this was better for attending to Ophelia’s wrist, it also subjected Dean to seeing the face of the Mister. Dean could feel himself cringe as he turned to greet the man.

“Hello, Sir. How are you on this evening?” Dean went with relaxed formalities.

“I am doing fine. Ophelia’s wrist hasn't changed much, but it’s getting better,” he said stiffly.

“Good,” Dean murmured before sitting down on the couch and opening his bag. The Mister seemed to want to watch this time so he sat down next to Dean on the small loveseat, as far away as he could. That Mister was a strange one, that was for sure. Ophelia sat down on the same footrest as last time and Dean began his mechanical process of unwrapping the brace. The wrist was much more straight than last time but it still had a sickly hue that was starting to yellow at the edges. Good, yellow meant healing. He gently wiped it down with some alcohol and powdered it so it stayed clean before he gently wrapped it again with the brace. Dean could feel the Mister watching his every move, but not in a skeptical way where he thought Dean couldn't do his job, just in a curious way.

“How are the pills working? 2 a day, right?” Dean asked him.

“I… decided not to give those to her. They weren’t as quality as I’d hoped, so I gave her some of my own,” the Mister pulled a glass out of his pocket revealing some smallish green pills.

“Are those opiates?” Dean asked confused. He wasn't sure how the Mister had gotten them but they were the best on the market at the moment.

“Well, yes. They just have a little morphine mixed in with some other things. A couple vitamins as well,” The Mister offered.

“Those will definitely work. Makes sure that you're dosing her correctly, though,” Dean said skeptically.

“I wouldn't want to kill the kid. I know what I'm doing,” He said back defensively.

“Of course, Sir. I didn't want to offend you, I've just seen what too much of those can do. I've watched children die when they are used incorrectly,” Dean admitted.

“I understand,” The Mister said with a slight pain in his voice.

Eventually, Dean gave up on the conversation and decided to make a change.

“What’s your name? We never properly introduced,” Dean held out his hand.

“I am Castiel. Many people call me Mr. Cas, though and I don't mind it much,” He spoke while holding Dean’s hand tightly. His hands were soft.

“I am Doctor Dean Winchester and I’m a physical practitioner. I don't have a firm though, just me, myself and I,” Dean admitted. “Well, Mr. Cas, I had better get going. I have 3 clients tomorrow, all with broken bones.” He pulled out a lollipop for Ophelia, “I will see you when I next have free time, anywhere from a couple of days to a week, but I will be here. Goodbye Ophelia,” Dean smiled at her and turned back to Mr. Cas. He was escorted out the door without even a goodbye, but it didn't affect him much.

**\---------------------**

It was 2 days later when he finally saw Castiel again. Not at his house, but on the street.

Dean had been coming back from Mr. Emerson’s house, who had broken his leg in a coach accident, when he saw Castiel walking downtown and towards the residential district of the city.

It was simple curiosity, he’d say later, but Dean concealed himself and started following Mr. Castiel. He passed a Catholic church on the corner of 5th and Bradbury and continued past onto Main Street. Dean was happy that Castiel was traveling away from the Soho district; he had worn his expensive leather shoes tonight.

Castiel hesitated at the crossroads, one branch lead to the residential district and towards Dean’s house and the other lead to the small shoppes of the business district. Dean assumed that Castiel would turn to the left and down into the city but Dean was quickly proven wrong.

 _Why would a man like Castiel, who all but lived in the slums, head towards the most expensive section of town? Maybe he was visiting a friend? Why yes, that made sense._ Dean assumed his following until Dean wound up on the porch of one Jimmy Jekyll. Now Dean was really suspicious; Jimmy was one of the richest and powerful pharmaceutical scientists in all of England! He’d built his empire from family money and had continued to grow when they had all died. While Jimmy was all powerful, he was a reserved person who rarely ever came out of his house.

 _Why would Jimmy make friends with a commoner like Mr. Cas? There were many doctors and lawyers that lived right next to Jimmy for years who’d never even seen the man!_ While Jimmy was a pharmaceutical scientist and not a practitioner, Dean had always wanted to be like him and lead a successful and eventful life. Dean had been fantasizing about wealth and success since he was 5 years old and while Dean was proud of where that got him, he still had far to go.

 _Shit._ While Dean had been thinking about power and money, Mr. Cas had quietly pulled out a key and had slipped inside of the giant mansion turned lab.

Dean sighed. _I guess that will be the end of my journey tonight._ Dean dusted the scum off of his knees from where he had been hiding behind a trash can and began walking down the alley and back towards the direction of his house. Admittedly, it had been a fun night. Dean felt like a faux detective trying to solve some absurd case, like the John Williams killer back in 1811. He wasn’t alive then, but he had definitely heard about it. Why did London have such a penchant for serial killers?

Dean followed the old brick building towards the back and tried to peek through the windows. They were all blacked out with thick black fabric that was traditionally used for mourning. Jimmy hadn’t even taken a wife so there was no need for the fabric, as family members didn’t get the special treatment. It didn’t truly matter why Jimmy had the fabric up; all Dean knew was that he couldn’t see into the house slash laboratory.

Dean gave up and began walking up the alley of Main Street and back towards his house.

He didn’t get far when the back door of the mansion opened and revealed the recluse that was Jimmy. He was dressed in a tan trench coat with an ugly design and he was carrying a small Jack Russell that he let free to do its business. The offending dog sniffed the air and began barking.

By now, Dean had hidden next to a broken couch which had the wooden frame splintering out from underneath the material. I was likely infested with rats and soggy from the November rain. It smelled like mold and wet dog. Not pretty.

The little dog began sniffing the ground and barking with the wiry hair on its back standing straight up. This alerted Jimmy and he yelled at the dog.

“Quit your yapping, Pretzel! You’ll wake up the whole neighborhood!” Jimmy had quickly snapped at the dog.

The dog continued barking and had quickly found Dean’s hiding spot. It had gotten in a defensive stance and kept barking at Dean where he was hidden next to the couch. Dean could see its beady eyes looking at him.

By this time, Jimmy had told the dog off and now he was suspicious.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” He called out into the night. His breath formed small clouds of steam.

Even in the blue-hued moonlight, Dean could tell that his eyes were a magnificent shade of blue.


	3. Direct Examination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just little experiments. Nothing noteworthy.” Perfect, Dean was going down the correct path. Jimmy was becoming more and more defensive. But also more suspicious. Should Dean lighten up a bit? _No, he only had this one chance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Fridays and Thursdays but this week and last week has been the worst in my life. I'm not joking or over exaggerating when I say this. I was suicidal and suppressing anger yesterday so I decided to start on what I've neglected. Sorry, but also not sorry cause I needed a break from real life for a second. I hope that no one is mad at me. So yeah, here's a subpar chapter.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” He called out into the night. His breath formed small clouds of steam.

Even in the blue-hued moonlight, Dean could tell that his eyes were a magnificent shade of blue.

Dean quickly ducked back behind the corpse of a couch before he was caught staring at the man. The couch creaked when he slammed his back up against it and Dean winced and held his breath. He could hear the shuffling of slippers coming towards him and he quickly though about his options. Jimmy didn't really know who he was so Dean could play it off by acting like a beggar. Or option 2: keep hiding unil Jimmy absolutely saw him. But with the way the couch kept creaking every time that Dean shifted against it, that wouldn't last long.

The cold of the cobblestone was seeping into his pants and his legs were starting to go numb. If he sat like this for any longer, he wouldn't be able to run.

Dean quickly pulled away from the couch as fast as he could, like ripping off that bandage on Little Tommy's arm last week, and, as quietly as he could, he crawled like a baby down the alleyway a little bit further. Jimmy kept calling out into the night and Dean refused to answer. When he had gotten down the alley he had crawled through a small stream from a broken gutter pipe and had already torn a small hole in his pants at the knee. He quietly grumbled to himself as he continued to creep down the alley.

_I’m a doctor for Christ’s sake! I shouldn't be crawling down alley with rats in them! I make too much money for this and i'm turning into a foozler!_

The end of the alley was only 10 feet away when he had finally been caught.

“Hey, you there! What are you doing!” Jimmy had demanded sternly. It wasn't much of a question, more of a parents demand of a petulant child.

Dean had frozen in fear at this point. Even if Jimmy was shorter than him and that he could fight him off, he didn't want the Scotland Yard to be called in. Word got around fast, and Dean didn't want to be known as the creepy doctor who crawled through allies.

_Fuck, he had to reply to Jimmy._

“I’m looking for my lost ring! S-Sorry for interrupting your night!” Dean called back weakly. _Oh god, had his voice given him away?_

“You don't search a whole alley for a ring, _Sir_! Get out from there!” Dean could see that Jimmy had his arms crossed and was huffing from underneath a streetlamp.

This was it: the end of his career, the end of his life, the end of it all. If he wasn't arrested tonight, he would have to pack up his entire practice and move to Switzerland. And, _oh god_ , how he’d worked so hard for it. Only for his life to get torn down by a little curiosity and a bad fib.

So Dean stood up and slowly walked back down towards the looming deity underneath the streetlamp, who was still puffing steam. Didn't mean he wasn't rethinking his entire life and what he would do.

_Maybe a sword forge in the woods? How would hermit life suit Dean? He could always find some partner that hadn't heard of his stained name or someone who felt pity for him._

And oh, how Dean had dragged his feet towards the man like a disciplined child. If he could have seen himself then, he likely would have keeled over from embarrassment, something not even the best doctor could cure.

So he stopped right in from of the man and stared at the small dead plants that used to be growing between the cobblestone.

“What were you doing?” Jimmy asked quietly. Dean couldn't help but compare him to an angry parent again.

“I was looking for a ring that my mother had given to me when I was 4 years old.” It wasn't a super huge lie, and there had been a ring, he had it on his nightstand at home, but it was the best opportunity that he had to get away.

“I guess I can help you look, where did you lose it?” Jimmy asked, in a stifling manner.

“I dropped it by the bin over there.” Dean pointed at the bin that was furthest down the alley. Dean looked up just as Jimmy had sighed and started walking down the alley. Yep, just as beautiful as he had imagined. _Beautiful, really Dean?_

Another choice in his life: help Jimmy look for his “ring” and Dean’s leftover sanity or hightail it out of there so fast that Jimmy didn't know what the hell happened.

Dean had had enough running for the day, so he settled on the less insane but more treacherous option. Dean began walking after Jimmy to search for the imaginary ring. It also meant that Dean could possibly pick his brain as to why he saw Castiel go into his house.

“What does your ring look like?” Jimmy asked while searching underneath the dumpster in his hands and knees. He was getting his trench coat dirty for Dean. The Jack Russell had been sniffling out the alley behind then, as if it was trying to help with the search.

“It's a [gold band with an emerald in the center and it has some little crystals](https://www.rubylane.com/item/1134502-U5SEDR001/Antique-1800s-Riough-Emerald-Diamond-Victorian).” Dean was telling the truth now. God, it was like the time he had to testify in court over a buggy accident.

“I don't see anything underneath here. Maybe it dropped between some cracks? And what were you doing wandering around at night, anyway? You know London has a penchant for serial killers and the likes.” Jimmy squinted at Dean in a condemning way. “Unless you're a serial killer?”

“No, no! God no! I was talking a midnight stroll and I-I happened to drop my ring, is all.” _God, why does he sound so suspicious._

“Mhmm. Sure.” Jimmy resumed looking underneath a wooden crate.

“I really was! I wanted to clear my head.” Dean isn't 100% accurate, but whatever.

Jimmy doesn't respond, but instead keeps searching for the object that got them into this whole debacle. Dean, while doing such rigorous, rigorous searching, may or may not have glanced at Jimmy’s…. Figure a few times. Sue him, Jimmy looked nice in the trenchcoat. It wasn't like he could act on his thoughts, it was against the law. Dean would be ostracized and ridiculed and somehow find another way to destroy his practice.

But Dean could still look, but only if he was careful. _Feign innocence._

“So what do you do for work?” Dean asked out of the blue.

“I… -- pharmaceuticals. I make a lot of medicine and solutions.” Jimmy answered tentatively.

“Yeah? Do you work for anyone?” Dean smiled at Jimmy when he stood up and gave Dean a shy smile. The awkward tension between them almost physically affected Dean. Breathing was beginning to get hard to do.

“No, I'm an independent practice. I just make prototypes and such so when I send them to Roche Industrials, they can mass produce.” Jimmy’s lips pursed.

“That's… quite ingenious. That's all you do for work? What about your freetime?” Dean had slowly began to structure his questions. Direct examination but less official. Let the witness tell the story, right?

“I usually don't do much with my freetime. I read and do extra side projects.” _Side projects? Would that include that Castiel fellow?_

“What kind of projects?” Dean felt himself basically spit the words. He was blunt and left the air feeling like needles against his skin in embarrassment. _Why did he always have to be a fuck up? Even John himself had said so. Especially since John was a parent who wasn't biased, he was usually right in his memos. Whatever._

“Just little experiments. Nothing noteworthy.” Perfect, Dean was going down the correct path. Jimmy was becoming more and more defensive. But also more suspicious. Should Dean lighten up a bit? _No, he only had this one chance._

“What kind of experiments, Jimmy?” Dean all but demanded.

“Excuse me? Do I know you? I never told you my name. I think we’re done here, Sir,” Jimmy dusted off the lapels on his trench coat and threw a quick “Good Day” behind him before he stormed off back towards his back porch.

_Dean is a genius. He just goes around pissing off influential pharmacists who could spread slander about how creepy Dean is. Perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments fuel my narcissism and need for power but also gives me motivation for new chapters. (Leave a comment ♥️)


	4. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some would say that Castiel had been a drug addict once, long ago. Not too long ago but long enough to be considered a ‘while’. He had been a troubled kid. His parents were tough and usually left him to his own when they weren't around. And when they were around… needless to say, it was never pretty. He had long scars along the length of his back. His father had always been quick with a whip. Of course, teens usually get angry at parents for doing things, rationally or not. So Castiel developed a temper. And then it turned into an anger problem. Eventually it transformed from taking it out on smaller kids at his school into just on himself. He developed a hatred for his parents and his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuse mentions. So my friend was being physically and sexually abused so needless to say, I prioritized that over this. Also, I had a breakdown on Monday where I cried in my bathroom for 2 hours and almost did things that would be... regrettable. Sorry.

And so Dean goes home. He’s blushing the whole way there trying to validate his creepy stalking experiment. Why did he have to be such an idiot when he was around people? 

He chest always felt achy when he was around new people. Maybe he had some kind of asthma? 

So many questions in Deans life were popping up and Dean felt out of control. 

Getting back to normality felt good. Dean buried himself in work all over again and never heard a peep about any creepy stalking he may have done; apparently Jimmy didn't talk to anyone about him. Good. 

So Dean kept up the blandness of his life until he went back to Castiel's house a week later. 

The little apartment always looked the same. No furniture ever moved and yet there was never a speck of dust on anything. 

Dean greeted Castiel with a nod of his hat and they went through a practiced routine. Ophelia’s arm was healing up very nicely because she took such good care for it. 

The only thing which was odd was that Dean noticed Castiel eyeing him warily, and he seemed more reserved than the other times. 

“Hello, Castiel. Have you and Ophelia been out recently? The weather is strangely warm for this time of the year,” Dean explained. 

Castiel hesitated, “Yes, but not much. I’ve been too busy with work and so Ophelia has had to occupy herself,” he explained in a slow voice. 

_Why did he sound so suspicious and critical of Dean?_

“That’s nice…” Dean smiled briefly before announcing that he had other work to do. He didn't really but he didn't want to be under Castiel’s scrutiny any longer. It was weird behavior but Dean shrugged it off and eventually left the apartment how he found it. 

**________**

Eventually the warm front moved on and the winter went back into its dreadful frigidivity. 

Of course, the increase of ice and snow had driven people off the road or made them slip down stairs and this made Dean work overtime just to treat the onslaught of patients. 

This left very little time for Dean to see Castiel and Ophelia. 

But even just walking by Jimmy’s house to treat a patient left him filled with curiosity. What was the strange connection between him and Castiel. And why did Castiel have access to pain killers so easily. Things didn't add up…

And so Dean forced himself to be deprived of knowledge that he was dying to know. Until he absolutely couldn't stand it. 

________

It was January now. The ice hadn’t let up and snow was likely to come pouring down at any moment. 

Dean was walking through a market when he bumped into an old friend. 

“Sam! How the hell have you been? I haven't seen you since last January!” Dean announced excitedly. 

“Dean. It's nice to see you. I was down in Berlin, and god; they have some fantastic architecture,” Sam explained. 

Sam Wesson was Dean’s step brother and one of his only friends. They had grown up together when Sam decided that he wanted to travel Europe and try to make a life for himself through that. While Dean had been skeptical, Sam had found himself a job as a train conductor for high class people which combined his wanderlust with just enough money to live comfortably. He found his wife Jess along the way and everything was well. 

For Sam at least. 

Dean still felt like he was going mad from all of the unanswered questions. 

“Sam, have you ever heard of a fellow named Jimmy Jekyll?” Dean inquired. 

“I can't say I’ve ever met him but I know he's a rich fellow with too much money to wipe his ass with,” Sam scoffed. 

“And what about a Mr. Castiel?”

“Sounds like a fake name but I have heard some… _rumors_ about him,” Sam smirked, “Why?”

“Can we talk about it someplace else? We can go back to my house if you'd like,” Dean offered with a wary look. 

“Sure. Just let me let Jess know where I’ll be,” Sam jogged back to the train depot and kisses Jess goodbye before Dean got back into his (hired) buggy and they rode up towards the residential district. 

They made small talk on the way but it wasn't anything important enough to be remembered. 

They eventually hopped out of the buggy and entered the house. Sam looked around amazed. 

“I still can't understand how you can just stay in one place for the rest of your life. What do you do with all of your money? Buy more silk sheets?” Sam teased. 

“First of all, my sheets are cotton. Silk is too cold in the winter. And I don't plan on staying in this house forever. I have plans to move to America one day. Its where our father is from anyway. We happen to have family over there, if you weren't aware. But definitely not right now. It's 1887 and America is the most corrupt its ever been. They have mob bosses left and right!” Dean laughed. 

“You have heard about Boss Tweed, right? People are saying that he's the richest man in the world!” Sam exclaimed. 

Dean laughed it off. America was too wild for his tastes. 

“Anyways, what have you heard about Castiel?” Dean emphasized. 

“Not much, but I heard he was… _with_ Jimmy Jekyll,” Sam smirked.

“Really? Now there’s 3 abominations in all of England!” Dean laughed. 

Of course Sam knew that Dean was more… masculinely inclined. The weirdest part about Sam was that he was ok with it. Dean knew from a young age that the girls he were supposed to be gushing about did nothing for him. 

They both busted out in gut clenching laughter before they eventually choked on their own spit and had to stop. 

“So, Jimmy and Castiel are close. But how close? I’ve seen Castiel go to Jimmy’s house plenty of times; he walks right by that alley down there,” Dean pointed out the window and Sam followed with his hazel eyes.

“Who knows. Anyways, it's getting pretty late and I wanted to give you something. Just a little gift from my travels,” Sam reaches into his pockets and struggles to find his present. 

Sam pulls out a small ivory elephant figurine, with bright embellished emerald eyes. 

“It reminded me of you, with the eyes and all,” Sam adds. 

“Aw, thanks Sammy. It means a lot.” 

Dean gently takes the elephant and pockets it. He could feel the weight of it in his pocket. 

Eventually, Sam leaves and Dean says goodbye with a quick pat on his back and hands him a nice bottle of brandy for his travels. Sam promises to visit more often when he can. 

The house goes back to feeling empty and bare, even though its almost crammed with furniture and luxury. 

Dean stares at his surroundings. He sighs. 

____________

Castiel had always been skeptical of modern medicine. 

Even when he himself was very familiar with the concept, the new stuff was never pure enough, never strong enough. 

Never brought a good enough rush. 

Some would say that Castiel had been a drug addict once, long ago. Not too long ago but long enough to be considered a ‘while’. He had been a troubled kid. His parents were tough and usually left him to his own when they weren't around. And when they were around… needless to say, it was never pretty. He had long scars along the length of his back. His father had always been quick with a whip. Of course, teens usually get angry at parents for doing things, rationally or not. So Castiel developed a temper. And then it turned into an anger problem. Eventually it transformed from taking it out on smaller kids at his school into just on himself. He developed a hatred for his parents and his mind. 

When medicine from all around started to circulate into his small hometown, Castiel jumped at the chance. 

So he sedated his anger problems in foreign plants and suspicious mixes that felt good. 

Eventually it got out of hand and almost cost the life of one of his dear friends and almost sent him out for a lifetime in prison. 

So Castiel decided to change, to adapt. His drug expertise change into something good, something that would help people who needed it. 

And boy, how good he was. At one point, an Indian couple had traveled all that way just to aide their child's fading eyesight. He mixed up a little something and sent them on their way. 

Some people accused him of witchcraft, but most just thought it was science and didn't try to understand it further. 

And eventually he got rich. And powerful. And free. 

But his anger never went away. 

__________

It had happened in an instant. He had been in a full out rage when one of his customers had knocked over a vial of antifungal cream. It was a simple mistake, an accident, but that didn't stop Castiel from cursing the man out and physically throwing him out of the manufacturing part of his mansion. 

Did he mention that the man had been the mayor of the city? 

So he felt like he had screwed up again and he immediately started on a solution for his anger problems. There had to be _something_ to stop his violent impulses, right?

He mixed up whatever he had on hand and quickly boiled it down to a black, tar like sludge. He winced when he felt it slide down his throat and almost gagged from its thick texture. 

And that's when the ‘official’ Castiel had been made. Jimmy never had a chance. 

Besides that what his parents had always called him. _Castiel James Jekyll._


	5. Boiling Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel woke up to the sensation that he was being watched. He opened his eyes and watched Ophelia carry a box of tea to the teapot suspended over the fireplace. Why was Ophelia making tea? She only ever did that when Mr. Winchester was over. Oh.
> 
> Castiel sat up on the couch and let his eyes sway over to where Dean was blowing on a steaming cup of coffee. He took a sip and winced before setting his cup down. 
> 
> “Hello Mr. Cas. Ophelia let me in earlier. She makes a mean cuppa coffee,” Dean smiled. 
> 
> Cas’ face flinched. _What a stupid child, trying to let strangers into the --_ Cas’ face flinched again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your Valentine's Day treat. Love y'all.

Dean had always wanted to see America. He’d heard that it had rolling hills and the largest mountains in the world. That the waterfalls that flowed were something sent from above and that the cities were alive and new. Sometimes England felt like it was just too old to ever have the same feelings that some people had described about the States. Dean knew he had enough money to get there, he was just too bogged down with the weight of his practice. Too many people depended on him and he sometimes felt like he was drowning. Dean had never worked in a factory or been poor enough to do so, but he envied the people who did. Not because they worked long, awful hours, but because they usually were immigrants who got to go to a better place. They were usually blackmailed into voting for a political machine, which Dean didn't like, but they got to go to new fresh places. 

Dean once thought he could be like Sam and travel the world. That idea had ended early when his father had told him to become a doctor and so Dean did. Sometimes he felt like he didn't have the capacity to regret it. Because he had been in the business long enough, he got used to the dark feelings that wallowed in his heart. He was content to feel the same his whole life until he grew old or died from cholera. He never trusted the city’s well. 

And so Dean woke up everyday and went through the same routines. Dean went through the motions. 

_________

Castiel had decided to go out today. Ophelia had wanted some milk to go with her breakfast and since Cas had been so close to the city, he went to the nearest market and bartered for milk. He had enough money to buy up the merchants entire supply of milk, he just didn't like paying extra, was all. Castiel knew he was selfish. 

The milk was still warm when he had gotten back to the apartment. Ophelia opened the door with a wide innocent smile. She was still missing her 2 front teeth. 

“Yay! You got mah milks! Thanks Misser Cassie.” Ophelia grabbed the milk and placed it into the icebox. 

Cas just grunted in reply and suppressed a small smile. That was strange, Jimmy must have been fighting for control there. 

Castiel and Jimmy didn’t fight for control very often, only when Jimmy needed to be present or when he wanted to get a word in. It was usually around Ophelia. Jimmy had too many _feelings_ for the little girl. Cas only kept her around because she was good at cleaning after Jimmy had made dinner. Cas never tried to cook. 

Castiel limped over to the fireplace and gave it a few pokes before adding an extra piece of wood. Cas could feel his back straighten out before he felt his control slipping away. Jimmy wanted something. 

Jimmy set the cane down before taking a seat on the couch. Castiel was weird about the cane. Jimmy never had a limp and he was still unsure why Castiel did. Psychological or something. 

Jimmy grabbed the book that sat on the seat of the couch. 

“Ophelia, it's time for bed. Are you going to get changed?”

Ophelia ran over from where she was trying to knit a scarf. “I’m already in mah jammies, misser.” 

“You know only Castiel likes being called Mister, right? You just call me James or Jimmy,” Jimmy smiled. 

“Yeah, I’s know that. Is just a habit, is all,” Ophelia explained. 

Jimmy chuckled. “Now, where were we? Did we get to the part where Dr. Frankenstein’s monster comes alive?”

“Yeah, we’s past that part.”

After they read another chapter, Ophelia had fallen asleep on Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy quietly lifted her and tucked her into her bed. It was a shabby thing and more like a cot, but it's what he had on hand since he had adopted her. 

He gave her a small kiss goodnight and went back out to the living room. He proceeded to lay down on the couch. Since he had created Castiel, he spent much more time in his ‘vacation’ apartment. He did miss his mansion and his bed but since Castiel was in control much more frequently, Castiel always came here. It was a makeshift new home. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel woke up to the sensation that he was being watched. He opened his eyes and watched Ophelia carry a box of tea to the teapot suspended over the fireplace. Why was Ophelia making tea? She only ever did that when Mr. Winchester was over. Oh.

Castiel sat up on the couch and let his eyes sway over to where Dean was blowing on a steaming cup of coffee. He took a sip and winced before setting his cup down. 

“Hello Mr. Cas. Ophelia let me in earlier. She makes a mean cuppa coffee,” Dean smiled. 

Cas’ face flinched. _What a stupid child, trying to let strangers into the --_ Cas’ face flinched again. 

_Oh,_ Jimmy _wants to speak; bumbling idiot that he is._

Jimmy tried not to look too ridiculous when he transition away from being Castiel. 

“Hello, Dean. It’s nice of you to join us. Did Ophelia add milk to your coffee?” Jimmy asked with a hint of a subdued smile. 

“She offered but I like it pitch black.” Dean looked strangely at Jimmy. 

_Was I being too nice?_

“What are you doing on this side of town?” Jimmy asked. 

“Just decided to take a walk. Did you hear about that house next to Mr. Jekyll’s?” Dean picked up his coffee again. 

“Why, what happened?” Jimmy’s brow furrowed. This couldn't be good. If something happened to his mansion, his cure and everything that he had worked so hard for. 

“The thing went up in flames. Jimmy is lucky that he didn't lose his house.” Dean’s under eye twitched, but he held a scrutinous gaze towards Jimmy. 

“Oh, that’s interesting. What do you think caused it?” Jimmy took the pot of tea off the fire and carefully poured himself and Ophelia a cup. 

“Someone said that the street lamps had somehow been too close to the house and the electricity had lit it up.” Dean’s brow furrowed further. He was beginning to squint. 

“Hm. I’ve never trusted that power stuff, it really is a fire hazard.” Jimmy poured sugar and some of the merchant’s milk into his tea. 

Dean just hummed in agreement while looking at Jimmy like he was an alien. 

Jimmy stared back at Dean. 

“Have you ever been over to that part of town?” Dean asked blank faced. 

“It’s a big city but yes. I have been that way.” 

Dean hummed again and slurped on his tea.

“Do you know Jimmy? It seems like you’d be the kind of person to know him,” Dean questioned. 

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘ _the kind of person_ ’ but I can assure you that I’ve only seen him a few times. We’ve never spoke.” Jimmy said defensively. 

 

All Dean could think was _What the hell?_

He’d swung by the house to see how Mr. Cas was doing and to check up on Ophelia. When Cas had woken up, it was as if his face had morphed in front of Dean’s very eyes. His foggy mind was suddenly clear. ‘Cas’ looked completely different than Jimmy… or so he thought. After ‘Cas’ had woken up, it was as clear as day that that was Jimmy Jekyll sitting right in front of him. It answered questions but brought many new ones. Why hadn’t he known that Cas was really just Jimmy? Dean thought that he would never forget those blue eyes. 

 

Jimmy felt Cas slowly returning and his leg started to hurt again, the limp coming back. His neutral face slowly twisted into a frown and his face drooped like he was having a stroke. 

Cas must’ve seen how many questions that Jimmy couldn't answer and knew what to do. Jimmy let him take over. 

Cas then glared up at Dean and slowly stood up. 

“Why does it matter to you? Who are you to ask me who I do and don't know?” Cas slowly stood up. He felt a fire start in his stomach. 

“I have my reasons, Castiel. Why’s it matter to _you_?” Dean set his cup back down. “I happen to know Jimmy.” 

“ _Liar_. Filthy, rotten _liar_. If you knew Jimmy, _I_ would know about it!” Castiel snarled. 

“Is it because you _are_ Jimmy?” Dean asked suddenly. 

Castiel sputtered and started to fume. 

“You -- you get out of my house! I will have nothing to do with this _nonsense_!” Castiel hollered. 

“Fine.” Dean gathered his hat and coat which were draped over a chair. “Good day.”

Castiel heard the door slam and he heard Ophelia making small sounds in the corner. The whimpering that she was making made Castiel slowly transition back to Jimmy. He stood up straighter and slowly went over to where she had curled up underneath the table at the corner of the room. 

“Ophelia, I’m sorry.” He said quietly. 

She had small sobs wracking her body. 

“What’s wrong, my beloved?” He asked again. 

“You -- Castiel -- he’s scary. Thought I was gonna get hurt.” She wiped her nose on her shoulder. “He was like mah old mastuhs.” 

She broke out into another set of sobs. Jimmy slowly crawled underneath the table and brought her to rest on his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn't control him. He was too strong. I hated the way he treated Dean, I couldn't control him and I hate myself for it.” Jimmy whispered ashamedly. 

“I’s not ya fault. Misser Cas is just a bully. He’s a mean one.” Ophelia said between sniffles. At least her tears were drying up. 

“You’re right. I wish I could do something about it.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Dean was fuming so hard that he saw red. He stormed his way all the way back to his front door, into his house and straight to his liquor cabinet. He was crazed for answers that he knew he couldn't get. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments fuel my writing skills :)


	6. Tidings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy had been watching the storm clouds in the sky while Ophelia had been snacking on some porridge when Jimmy had looked outside and saw some poor bloke stumbling up the street. Upon further inspection, he realized it was Mr. Winchester. He continued to watch him as he barely made it down to the corner store before he went inside. 5 minutes later, he stumbled back out with an opened bottle of liquor and was openly taking swigs from it. He didn't even seem to be worried about public intoxication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a fuller chapter with the smallest amount of plot thrown in. It's also kinda short. Have at it, I guess. And make sure to leave me a juicy comment ;)

Jimmy decided to move Ophelia back to his mansion and to get a proper bed to sleep on. Castiel had not made a presence in the last 3 days but he didn't really need to. They packed up all of the things that had made an appearance in the time that they had been staying there and had placed it in the back of a buggy before they were dropped off in front of the mansion. Ophelia was awestruck at the size of the house and promptly pulled Jimmy to the door do he could unlock it. Pretzel, the Jack Russell, had bounded across the wooden floor and had started jumping onto Jimmy’s leg. 

“It's good to see you, girl.” Jimmy gave her a quick pet before he started to haul the bags into the living room. 

“Mistah! You dint’ tell me you had a _dog_!” Ophelia exclaimed.

“Well, _Castiel_ doesn't have a dog, I do,” Jimmy explained. “Castiel hates Pretzel with a passion.”

“Meanie…” Ophelia muttered.

Jimmy took the little food they had into the kitchen and noticed a note on the counter. 

_Jimmy/Castiel--_

_Since you had phoned me earlier today, I have fed Pretzel and made sure that everything in the ice box was fresh and threw out anything old. The pantry is rid of moths._

_\--Henry_

Henry was Jimmy’s maid service. He cleaned up after Castiel and made sure that Pretzel had enough food, water and bathroom breaks throughout the day. He didn't stay in the house but came by twice a day to check up on everything. He was an older white man with a serious face who did thorough cleaning. Jimmy paid him handsomely. 

When everything wa secure enough in the kitchen, Jimmy turned his attention upstairs. The electric lights were turned on and Ophelia followed him up the stairs, Pretzel following behind Ophelia. They passed all of the blacked out curtains and Jimmy opened all of them. The sunlight began streaming in and the mansion felt much happier. 

Eventually they got to the long hall with doors strewn along it. They passed the first one and made it to the end of the hall. Jimmy opened the door to his bedroom and placed his bag on the bed. Pretzel hurried over to her dog bed and laid down. 

“I think we should get you a bath, huh?” Jimmy raised an inquiring eyebrow at Ophelia. “The bath at the apartment was tiny.”

Jimmy was lucky enough to have his own personal bathroom with a boiler down in his basement which pumped the hot water directly to the bathtub. It was a costly modification, but it had worked well. 

The tub itself was the largest and most elaborate on the market. It had high edges which allowed anyone who used it to almost fully submerge themselves. 

“You can't swim, right?”

Ophelia nodded.

“I guess we can fill it up part ways.”

He let Ophelia wash herself with his lavender soap while he laid down on his bed and grabbed a book. He didn't need her accidentally drowning. 

He could heard her giggle when she splashed the water and a bubble formed. Jimmy enjoyed being a makeshift father. 

He went over to his coat rack and pulled on a coat before he opened the doors to his balcony; another custom addition. He left the doors open enough so he could still hear Ophelia. He sat down on his metal chair and stared out at the city. This part of the house faced towards the Soho district and away from the richer part of town. Just looking out and Jimmy felt a little bit more humble. The air was cold and it was likely cooling the room down quite a bit but Jimmy really needed to get a fire going anyway. 

He stared for a while before Ophelia called out. 

“Jimmy! I’m gettin’ wrinkled!” Her voice could be heard echoing around the bathtub. 

He sat up and went to the bathroom before he knocked tentatively. 

“I’m gonna come in. There’s some towels up on a shelf somewhere.” 

She let him in and he pulled his fluffiest towel from the top shelf. She wrapped herself up in it before he ushered he up to the bed and made her sit there. He found one of his silk sleep shirts and pants and gave it to her. It was an awkward fit but he needed to buy her more clothes and the ones that he had bought were still dirty. 

She hopped off of the bed and tied the drawstring tight on the pants and rolled up the pant legs. 

“C’mon, let's go get a fire started,” Jimmy offered. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had drunk himself silly. He wasn't even that upset after the whole Jimmy/Mr. Cas ordeal. He just had a minute breakdown and drank through his liquor cabinet until he ran out. He then had to decide between sobering up and thinking about his actions or to go out into the cold morning to get some more whiskey. He chose the less sober route. So there he was, walking up the street to the nearest store that sold alcohol. His clothes were still from yesterday and they were all wrinkled up and smelled funny from how much liquor he’d accidentally spilled on them. He was supposed to go to 2 client’s houses today but those plans had changed as soon as he’d even thought about alcohol. He was still drunk enough that he didn't feel embarrassed when he passed by someone he knew on the street. Whatever, he didn't even give a shit about his practice anyway. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimmy had been watching the storm clouds in the sky while Ophelia had been snacking on some porridge when Jimmy had looked outside and saw some poor bloke stumbling up the street. Upon further inspection, he realized it was Mr. Winchester. He continued to watch him as he barely made it down to the corner store before he went inside. 5 minutes later, he stumbled back out with an opened bottle of liquor and was openly taking swigs from it. He didn't even seem to be worried about public intoxication. It was a funny sight and Jimmy smirked at it. He watched the man make it down the street and into his house. So that's where he lived, interesting. 

With the fire roaring in the basement downstairs and the central fire beginning to catch up, Jimmy decided that he needed to apologize for Castiel’s actions. They pulled on coats (Ophelia’s was Jimmy’s old wool coat) and headed out the door. Jimmy carried Ophelia on his hip due to the chance that she would likely fall if she tried to walk in her too long pants. They made their way down the street and Jimmy hesitated a moment when he looked at the house. The front door was still cocked open and there was mail scattered down the steps which fluttered slightly in the wind. 

Jimmy _really_ hoped that Dean wasn’t an angry drunk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments fuel my writing powers :)


	7. Tipping Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And hell, maybe that’s why he created Castiel in the first place. By getting rid of his anger, cutting the head off of the snake, he hoped that he would become more liked in the public eye. But no matter what he did, what he sacrificed, he would never be good enough for anyone. He’d dated once. A naive girl named Daphne who had dated him to satisfy her nosy parents. They didn't last long. The last things that she said to him went along the lines of “You’ll ever be satisfied, you’ll never feel good enough and you’ll never, _ever_ , find someone who wants to stay.” At the time, he was too high to realize that it was a break up speech. He never heard from her again after she slammed the front door in his face. He wasn’t sad after she left, just hurt by her words. She was just a front to hide his ‘special’ interest in men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should add the tag 'slow burn' to this fic. Sorry, I guess?

Jimmy pushed the door open and peaked inside. There was some clothes on the floor and some bottles on the table closest to the door. He hesitated for a second before he heard it: small sobs coming from somewhere in the house. While Jimmy was better than Castiel at emotion, but that didn't mean that Jimmy was actually good at comforting people. 

He let Ophelia down and told her to wait by the door. The volume of the sobs increased as he reached the end of the house and entered the staircase. He tentatively walked up each step, making sure that they didn't creak and alert Dean that someone was there. He doubted that Dean would be sober enough to differentiate an intruder from the sound of his sniffling, anyway. 

The door of the hall were all shut except for the last one at the end of the hall. It was cracked open with a bottle lingering in the doorway. It looked like an expensive brand of whiskey was flooded all over the entrance to the room. Cas reached the door and peaked in. It was a relatively small room compared to his mansion bedroom, but it was furnished with finely crafted nightstands and premium silk sheets. 

At first he didn't even noticed Dean, but when his eyes scanned over the room again, he noticed a shaking lump of clothes draped against the end of the bed facing the window and balcony. Dean was covered in what looked like a robe and some sheets, maybe a blanket? 

Jimmy knocked on the door abruptly. The shivering mass stopped moving. He heard a sniffle and the clearing of a throat. 

“Who’s -- who’s there?” Dean’s voice was full of mucus and sounded slurred and sickly. 

“It’s Jimmy. I just wanted to check on you after what Castiel did.” Jimmy cracked the door open a little further so he was standing on the other side of the whiskey bottle. 

“So it’s true, huh? You and _Castiel_ are some fucked up kind of identical twin. Or is there more to it?” Dean said ‘Castiel’ as if it were a swear word. Dean fumbled under the blankets before he pulled a bottle to his lips. Dean still stared off into the window. 

“Of sorts. I can explain later when you’re sober, if you’d like. It’s a long story.” Jimmy walked around the bed and next to Dean’s side. He crouched and gently pulled the brandy bottle from Dean’s lips. They were glossy with spit and dribbled brandy. 

Dean let him pull the bottle away and blinked his glossy eyes at Jimmy. “I don’t feel so good.” Dean sighed before gingerly bending over and vomiting on Jimmy’s shoes. 

Jimmy jumped away as fast as he could but he just sighed and flicked the vomit off of his shoe and took some deep breaths. _Can’t get mad now or else Castiel will want to give him a piece of his mind. These shoes were twenty dollars…_

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at Jimmy waveringly. “Were those leather?” Dean giggled. “I barfed on your ‘spensive shoes.” 

“Let's get you cleaned up. Where’s your bathroom?” Jimmy set the brandy bottle on a side table before he began to take Dean’s shoes off. They were from the same company as his shoes, maybe he could jack them when Dean was distracted? 

“‘S uh, downstairs,” Dean spat out. 

“God, I really wish you had more money…” Jimmy grumbled. 

Dragging Dean down the stairs was hard, but Dean definitely needed a bath. After Cas peeled the blankets off of Dean’s body, the putrid smell of pee basically punched Jimmy in the face. 

Ophelia was lingering by the China cabinet in the living room. She quickly pulled he hands away when she saw Jimmy. 

Jimmy spotted the nearest door. “Ophelia, could you open that and see if it’s the bathroom?” 

She nodded in confirmation and pushed the creaky door open to reveal a large tub. There was little spout sticking out of the wall which made Jimmy sigh in relief. As long as he didn't have to haul water up and boil it on the stove, he was happy. 

Dean’s eyes were almost rolling back in his head. He was either going to pass out or die from alcohol poisoning. Good thing that Jimmy somewhat prepared for this. 

“Ophelia, go to the kitchen and find a big pot.” Jimmy gave a weak flick of his hand. He stared down at where Dean was laid on the floor. The syrup of ipecac he had in his pocket was pulled out. Even if Dean was likely going to throw up on his own, Jimmy didn't want to chance it. He grabbed the bottle and undid the top. The little dropper was filled with brownish liquid. He heard Ophelia padding down the hall and into the bathroom. She gave him a black pot which he set to the side. He placed the syrup on the counter before he grabbed Dean’s lapels and pulled him up so he was leaning against the wall, head lolled to the side. He awkwardly spread Dean’s legs and set the pot between them.

At this point, Dean had passed out so Jimmy was safe enough. He hoped that the pot was not smashing any… sensitive areas. 

He grabbed the syrup and filled the dropper up the rest of the way. He moved Dean’s head so it was facing the ceiling and pried his jaws open. He squirted the dropper down his throat and made sure that he swallowed it or at least let it drip down his throat. While the bottle said that it would induce vomiting in 15 minutes, that depended on how much Dean had drunk. Dean began to stir about 5 minutes later and had slowly blinked open his droopy eyes. His brow twisted before he promptly bent over the pot and vomited. 

Jimmy gently rubbed his back and sighed. “Let it out…” 

Ophelia twisted her face from where she was standing in the doorway. “Gross.” 

Jimmy chuckled at her upturned nose. Dean was leaning over the pot with a pained expression and Jimmy let him. He stepped over Dean towards the bath and started it up. It made a gurgling sound before it reluctantly started to spit out water. 

The water was a good temperature when the bath began to fill up. Dean seemed to be done with the pot and set it off to the side. “Why’re you here, anyway?” 

Jimmy sighed. “I already explained but I felt bad about what Castiel did and I saw you stumbling down the street. I wanted to check on you.” 

“And you’re doin’ that by what? Undressin’ me?” Dean scoffed. 

“Yes. The bath is almost ready.” 

Jimmy stepped over Dean and let him have his privacy. The bathroom was then filled with shuffling and a small groan. That must have been the beginning of the hangover. 

Jimmy decided to explore the house. The kitchen was sparsely decorated but it had cups and tins on the counter. He looked inside of the icebox which was almost empty. There was some eggs in a glass bowl and some milk. 

Jimmy searched the cabinets for a cast iron pan and found Dean’s jar of bacon grease. He mixed up the eggs and milk and then dunked some stale bread into it. The poor excuse for French toast would be good for Dean’s stomach. 

Soon enough, Jimmy heard Dean marching up the stairs, likely to get some clothes. Jimmy wondered if he wrapped a towel around himself or if he was comfortable enough to go about naked. Dean did have freckles, but were they scattered all over his body or just his arms and face? Did they reach down his back? Did they reach… _below_ his back? Were they all over his legs and the sensitive skin between them? 

Jesus, Jimmy was such a prude that his amature thoughts made excitement stir low in his belly. _That's enough_ he thought. Ophelia was playing at the kitchen’s bar and he really didn't need to explain the birds and the bees to her. 

Jimmy flipped the French toast and sprinkled some old cinnamon on top. They looked edible enough and the bacon grease added a little extra flavor. He served up a plate to Ophelia who enjoyed them even without the syrup, but she didn't exactly have high standards, did she? Being a slave child was rough. She had probably witnessed a fair number of inequalities in her day, even if she was only 8. 

Soon enough, Jimmy’s little… _problem_ went away and he found himself in the presence of one Mister Winchester. 

He chose not to speak when he thrust the plate at Dean’s now clothen chest. Dean slowly took the offered food and looked at him quizzically. He went and sat down on a wooden bench that was placed against the wall next to the entrance of the kitchen. He picked up his fork and stabbed the French toast, again looking at it quizzically. He slowly cut into the stale bread and then looked at Jimmy dubiously. He slowly took a bite and then gave up on his ministrations. He finished his toast quickly. 

“I… haven't had something cooked in my home for over a year. I usually just live off of restaurant food or things that my patients give me as a form of thanks.” Dean stared at the ground. “Thanks, Jimmy. It was good,” Dean quickly set his plate on the bench and stumbled towards the stairs. 

Before he got there, Jimmy called out, “Dean?” Jimmy set his own plate down. “I could help you, you know. I’m not sure why you’ve gone and drunken yourself silly, but you can always talk to me. Castiel might not be so understanding but I -- I care about you.” Jimmy felt himself picking at the jagged part on his nail -- a habit he’d picked up from when he had been withdrawing from drugs. That and scratching at his skin like there was bugs under it. 

Dean stopped. He didn't turn around, but instead Jimmy saw and heard him take a deep breath, his shoulders moving with the motion. He seemed to be hesitating. 

Dean’s hand clenched and unclenched before Jimmy heard him barely whisper, “ _Get out of my house._ ” The timbre of the room almost made the words echo around in Jimmy’s head. It took him a minute before he understood the implications. 

Once again, Jimmy wasn't wanted. 

And hell, maybe that’s why he created Castiel in the first place. By getting rid of his anger, cutting the head off of the snake, he hoped that he would become more liked in the public eye. But no matter what he did, what he sacrificed, he would never be good enough for anyone. He’d dated once. A naive girl named Daphne who had dated him to satisfy her nosy parents. They didn't last long. The last things that she said to him went along the lines of “You’ll ever be satisfied, you’ll never feel good enough and you’ll never, _ever_ , find someone who wants to stay.” At the time, he was too high to realize that it was a break up speech. He never heard from her again after she slammed the front door in his face. He wasn’t sad after she left, just hurt by her words. She was just a front to hide his ‘special’ interest in men. 

Even now, her famous last words echoed around with Dean’s “Get out”. But this time, he wasn't so stupid to know that those were Dean’s last words. No matter the differences in situation, everyone had something to say in the end. 

Jimmy’s heart felt heavy in his chest and every thump was another memory of Dean that he’d have to let go. He didn’t have many, but it still hurt. 

Once again but louder, Dean solidified his statement, “Get out.” His voice was watery and it sounded like he was about to hurl again. 

Jimmy gathered Ophelia and left, back into the concentrated daylight. It was too bright for how Jimmy was feeling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos fuel my writing powers :)


	8. The Hartford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house of the mansion was swung open with too much force and the heavy wooden door almost hit Ophelia. She yelped and quickly dodged out of the way. Jimmy felt his control slipping, but becoming Castiel would cause distress to Ophelia. His mind was torn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter has possibly triggering content involving violence towards children.

The short trek home was tiring and quite upsetting for Jimmy. The young Misses who walked the streets had pointedly avoided him. Maybe it was his face? Jimmy felt his lip curl at every happy-go-lucky person who passed. He was hurt by Dean’s implications. He couldn’t understand how he could do this to him. 

The house of the mansion was swung open with too much force and the heavy wooden door almost hit Ophelia. She yelped and quickly dodged out of the way. Jimmy felt his control slipping, but becoming Castiel would cause distress to Ophelia. His mind was torn. Too soon the anger he had towards Dean won out. 

Castiel’s bum leg started to hurt and he leaned onto the kitchen counter. 

“James? Please don’t be mad -- but I accidently took somethin’ from Mistuh Dean’s house.” Ophelia offered quietly. _Oh_ , Castiel thought, _she still thinks I’m that pathetic excuse for a man, Jimmy_. _Stupid girl, she oughta know better than to go around stealing people’s property -- especially fancy doctors. Pathetic._

“You were in a hurry tuh get out an’ I was gonna put it back -- don’t be mad.” Castiel felt his blood beginning to boil from where he was leaned against the counter. The wood of the counter creaked as he shifted his weight. He turned. 

Ophelia was holding some kind of toy cart. It was old and likely something antique. Something valuable to Dean.

“Are you a little thief?” Castiel asked with a threatening glare. Ophelia visibly stiffened as her mind figured out that it wasn't Jimmy in front of her anymore. 

“N--No. I was lookin’ at it and we left in such a hurry --” Castiel snatched the toy out of her hands and set it on the counter. It felt rough in his hands. 

He turned back to the cowering girl. “Are you a thief? _Answer_ me!” His blood pressure was elevated and he felt the thrumming of his heart. 

“No! No, I didn’t mean to! I wouldn’t steal from Mistuh Dean!” 

“Then you would steal from me? You petulant child, I tried to trust you. You disgusting thing, get out of my face!” Castiel felt the venom in his voice. It felt good to get a rush out of things every once in a while. He knew that his counterpart Jimmy would rather suffer than to release some tension, but he wasn't Jimmy, new was he? 

He quickly stuck his bum leg out and caused Ophelia to trip where she was trying to flee. He hobbled over to where he had kept his cain by the door. Ophelia was still huddled on the ground. There was blood dripping from one of her knees all over the floor, staining it red. 

“Now you’re staining the floor, you sickening child! Get out of here, this instant!” He brought his cane down on the floor in a terrifying _crack!_ The floor had a small dent in it now, courtesy of Castiel. Ophelia scrambled to get up and promptly fell down again, her hands slipping on the cold floor. Castiel brought his cane down again, now closer to her head. She winced at the sound. 

She ran from the room and deeper into the house. Castiel limped over the the coat rack and pulled on his wool coat. He left the house in a hurry, not bothering to lock the door, and hailed the closest buggy. The streets started to turn rough as they turned the corner to the Soho district. Castiel picked up his cane from the ground of the buggy and practically threw his money at the driver. 

He opened the doors of the small apartment and reveled in the silence and darkness. This was much better than a stuffy mansion. When he was here, he had much less to worry about. 

~~~~~~~~~

Dean felt like shit warmed over. He felt like there was a weight pulling at his heart from down in his stomach. He felt bad for Jimmy, and now, he felt much worse for Ophelia. He’d seen Castiel (Jimmy? He couldn’t truly tell from this far down the street, but the mannerisms suggested Castiel) hail a cab and then throw his cane and then his body into it. He seemed to have been in a hurry as they sped by Dean’s house. Dean was still loopy with the alcohol running through his veins, but he knew that Ophelia wasn’t with Castiel. 

And so he had left his hollow of a house just minutes after breaking another mans heart for the sake of an 8 year old girl. He didn't smell good, he didn’t feel good, but he was a doctor and he felt fine enough. The trip down the stairs was one of the most difficult in his life and he tripped more than once. He was passing his China cabinet when he noticed that it wasn’t shut all of the way. He turned towards it slowly, when he noticed the empty space between the plates and cups. He knew exactly what was missing. 

He pulled on a shirt that was lying at the bottom of the stairs and attempted to fix his hair in the reflection of the China cabinet. 

He peeked out his door and looked both ways. He didn’t want to be caught in such a condition. The distance of the street never seemed so far. He couldn’t quite walk in a straight line but he did fine when crossing the street. He didn’t get hit (but he did narrowly miss running into a parked buggy). The door of the mansion was not shut so Dean was able to open it tentatively. The house was shrouded in shadows and anger. 

Dean called out gently, “Hello?” No response. 

He passed a smear of blood on the ground and some dents in the wood. He saw his Impala buggy figurine and decided to come back for it later. The mansion was a puzzle to walk through. At first, Dean tried the upstairs where he was disorientated by a hall with too many doors. He tried the first one and found a water boiler room. Fancy. 

The next door held a bathroom which was spotless (and creepily so). The last door on the left was to a small guest bedroom which was just as pristine as the bathroom. 

Finally, the only door on the right held promise. He cracked it open to a warm room with a large slept in bed. The door creaked when he opened it, so Dean slipped into the room quietly. Though the room seemed empty, Dean’s eyes lingered on the clothes strewn about and the random paints on the ground, some still open. There was a small painting on the nightstand which caught Dean’s eye. It wasn’t Van Gogh by all means, but it was… cute. The childlike painting of 3 people holding hands made Dean’s soul stir. He felt a subtle longing towards the painting. The image of Jimmy (his name was clearly labeled underneath him, likely to reassured who ever saw it that it wasn't Castiel), Ophelia and ‘Mr. Dean’ all smiling brightly with stick figure mouths was impactful. The names underneath the figures weren’t written in paint, but rather in ink. Jimmy must have written them down to help with her spelling. The image of Jimmy being so caring made Dean’s weepy eyes tear up. He set the paper down and continued his search.

The stairs were descended (which was easier now since Dean had sobered up over the painting) and Dean found himself searching the cabinets, washroom and kitchen of the house. They were all empty and untouched. He was about to give up when he heard a sniffle from behind a bookcase. Dean looked at it puzzled and walked down the hall a bit. The sound grew quieter as Dean walked away from the bookcase. He raised a brow as he tried to understand the enigma that was the bookcase. 

He gently grasped it and tried to pull, but it didn't budge. The case was either strongly attached to the wall, or the weight of the books was too heavy for Dean. Dean’s eyes caught a particular book with a slightly worn cover compared with the pristine books around it. He slowly pulled the book back and the entire bookcase shifted. _Why the hell did Jimmy have a secret doorway to a secret room?_

The bookcase was pulled back to reveal a plain door. Dean tried the door but it was locked. He knocked on it quietly. “Ophelia, it’s me, Mr. Dean. Can you open the door, please?” 

The sniffling had ceased now and Dean heard footsteps and then the click of the lock. He opened the door slowly and peaked in. It looked like some kind of office or workshop. The walls had more (real) books on them and there was a desk at the end of the room. The lamp on the desk was lit, but it only barely illuminated the room. 

Ophelia practically ran into his arms when he had fully opened the door. “Are you ok, Ophelia?” All the weeks of caring for her arm had left him with a fondness for the kid. He really had missed her. 

Dean slowly released her. “What happened?” 

“Don’t be mad, but I took your buggy from ya cabinet and Mistuh Cas got mad at me. He was yellin’ an’ tryin’ tuh hit me. I was so scared so I ran into here.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

“No, but mah knee got pretty beat up from fallin’,” Ophelia sniffled. She pulled sat down in the desk’s chair and pulled her pant leg. The knee was starting to bruise, but the pants had soaked up most of the blood. 

Dean pulled out a (clean) handkerchief and began to dab the rest of the blood away. The pants had prevented the knee from getting dirty so Dean assumed that the knee would be fine. He gently wrapped the handkerchief around her knee and pulled it tight, wincing when she made a pained noise. 

“I’m sorry for what I did to Jimmy. I just -- I panicked, is all. It’s not easy being a part of this city, especially when you’re someone like me. I need time to think and it's already been hectic enough lately,” Dean whispered. 

“I’s not me you need tuh tell. Tell him when he’s back tuh bein’ Jimmy.” 

“You’re right, but I’m a coward. I’ve lived so long with so many secrets that it’s hard to say things now.” 

“I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout bein’ an adult, but ya’ _gotta_ tell him. He likes you an’ ya can’t just _lie_. Mah mum always used tuh say that lyin’ is a sin.” Ophelia turned her face away. 

“Would you like something to eat?” Dean abruptly changed the subject. He couldn’t stand to talk about his feelings when they were still so fresh, much less with a (very knowledgeable) 8 year old. 

“Yeah. I’m hungry. Do you even know how tuh cook?” Ophelia teased. 

“Not much. That’s what public dining is for. We can hail a buggy and go down to the depot, what do you say?”

“ _Really_? I ain’t never been to the depot before. Are you gonna get somethin’ from the Hartford?” 

“Yep. I’ll pick it up, you can wait in the buggy, and then we can come back here and eat until we can’t.” Dean felt pained to hope that she wouldn’t notice that he’d have to leave her in the buggy. Racism still ran rampant in urban England. 

“Can I get mah coat ‘n dress on?” 

Dean nodded. Ophelia grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him from the hidden room and planted him on the couch in the downstairs while she ran up the stairs into some room. 

Dean heard the occasional _thump_ from upstairs as he waited for Ophelia to get changed. He tried to flatten his wrinkled pants down to no avail. 

She eventually came skipping down the stairs in a frilly white dress and a thick woollen coat which looked brand new. 

“Do you like it Mistuh Dean?” She did a twirl at the bottom of the stairs, the dress doing a perfect twist. Kids were so funny when they dressed up. 

“Looks good. Let’s head over to my house so I can grab my wallet and get some better smelling clothes on.” Dean grabbed the figurine buggy off the counter and locked the front door with the spare key Ophelia gave him before they began to walk. 

They crossed the street and made their way down to Dean’s house where they put the figurine buggy back and Dean changed into his favorite silk shirt. They buggy they hailed just happened to have Andrew as the driver, one of his past patients. They both entered the buggy and Dean helped Ophelia up the steps. 

“Doctor Winchester! It’s nice tuh see ya! How have you been?” 

“I’ve been well,” Dean lied. “How’s your back?” 

“Oh, It’s been a charm since whatever ya did tuh fix it! Now, who’s the young one? You didn’t tell me you had a child,” Andrew smiled widely at Ophelia and she smiled back. Dean was just happy that Andrew wasn’t a racist pig. 

“I’m child watching for a friend. Can you take us down to the depot and wait for me? I’m trying to get some food for dinner.” 

“Oh, of course you are. You’re a very busy man, fixin’ people and all that.” Andrew used his reins to get the horses going. “You probably don’t have time tuh fix something up for yourself.” 

Ophelia pulled a side curtain open and peaked out, the glee on her face lighting up the cabin of the buggy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all might think I'm bullshitting when I add in food to go, but there really was quite a few restaurants in the 1880's. Due to the increase + industrialization of food, restaurants were a norm. [Here's a restaurant menu that I based everything off of. ](https://victualling.files.wordpress.com/2016/04/1882hartfordhalfdimelunch.jpg)


	9. Communication Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am being run out of town by a small mob. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find a suitcase and my safe,” Castiel added. He moved to stand up but was stopped by the pain in his ribs. He’d barely hobbled here earlier after the mob threw him out of the fish market. 
> 
> “Just -- just sit down for a moment. What did they do to you?” 
> 
> “They kicked me a lot, cut me, threw my cane at me. Likely other things, but I believe I was unconscious for a moment and now I can’t seem to remember. It was after they carried me out and threw me down on the cobblestone,” Cas grimaced. He shifted to sit up on the couch but ultimately gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))
> 
> I hate depression but this fic is definitely not dead!

The buggy was jostling as they made their way back to Jimmy’s mansion. The chill of the buggy had started to get to Dean as they hurried along the packed streets. 

Andrew threw in the occasional small talk, but Dean chose to answer in basic English. Ophelia was tasked with holding the the crate of paper wrapped food and she looked absolutely ecstatic about it, seeming to forget about what Castiel had done. As long as she held onto the source of her innocence, Dean knew she would be fine. 

The buggy eventually stopped in front of the house and Dean went around to get the food and to help Ophelia get out. The catfish and sandwiches would be a nice way for Dean to eat his feelings away. 

The slamming of the oak door along with the sound of Andrew leaving signalled their arrival into the house. Dean set out to make a fire in the living room. He glanced back at Ophelia who had retired on the couch next to the crate of food. 

“I’m sorry I made you walk so much with your knee, but I didn’t want to leave you here alone,” Dean sincerely queried. 

“I’s alright Mistuh Dean. I can heal fastuh then you evuh could,” She giggled. 

“You’re right,” Dean affirmed. He continued to poke at the sparkling fire. 

“Can we eat some food now?” Ophelia whined. 

“Of course. I’m surprised that you haven't already tore that crate apart,” Dean snickered. 

Ophelia pulled out the wrapped sandwiches and gently set it on her lap before she tore the paper open, effectively getting bits of meat on the couch. 

Dean ignored it. The least revenge he could get on Castiel was a stained couch. 

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Castiel was always subject to strange looks. People just couldn’t get used to his perpetual sneer and shady looks. It wasn’t his problem, though, he was the one who was always looked at. If they didn’t want to see, why look? 

Castiel was usually as apparent as a cloud of dust in this labyrinth of a city. He didn’t ever have a specific place to go even though he usually wandered everywhere. 

Of course, he got tired of the same things and tended to avoid the same place twice. Like now. 

Castiel had been wandering the lower docks of the city fish market when had had pushed a man out of his way. The loiterer had turned around and glared at him in an offended manner. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to walk through the particular section and there had been a tall man in his way. 

The man had some hair that flounted around every time he walked. His hazel eyes glared as Cas walked away. 

Cas didn’t notice the way he talked in hushed whispers to the man next to him as Cas still continued to walk away. 

The next thing that Cas knew was that he was being grabbed by the lapels of his wool jacket and thrown across the courtyard of the fish market. He landed dangerously close to a vendor selling knives. The table raddled as he hit the ground. 

He turned around and tried to find the man that had thrown him. Of course, it wasn’t just one man. A small angry looking crowd began to gather around him, effectively cornering him in. He had dropped his cane in the process of his scrambling, and it was now being snapped in half over a man’s knee. 

At least he understood their intentions. 

The broken pieces of his cane were thrown back in his face. The splintered wood scraped across his cheek and eye before he could protect it. He felt a drop of blood leak down his face. 

The man in front of him spoke, “Jimmy.” He sneered. “We’re gettin’ real tired of you bullyin’ your way through town. Your mansion and all of your money -- we’re sick of ya!” 

The crowd all uproared in agreement. 

Cas wiped the blood from his cheek. “It’s quite funny how none of you could create and administer a vaccine for rabies. Or any other virus, disease or infection, at that. I can’t seem to understand your sentiment,” He sneered back.

The man in front of him, the unannounced leader, glared before kicking him in the ribs. Cas protected his face as best he could, but he could feel where his ribs had cracked under the ministrations. 

The man pulled back and spat on him. “You shouldn’t act so smug, you woolie. Everyone here is on the same side.” 

“Well, I best ought to be going.” Cas pushed himself up on his hands and knees before he was halted by the pain in his ribs. He held his breath and tried to push up again, only to collapse in failure. The pain was shooting through his ribs and up to the nerves in his back. 

The small crowd seemed to be waiting for him to either stand up or die. The leader of the group had been glaring while Castiel struggled, but now he was walking towards Cas again. 

Cas braced and waited for the kick. The hot pain kept his breathing shallow and he was starting to feel light headed. The second kick was lighter than before, but that was only because the man was reaching for something after it. 

Cas felt the cool metal of a knife press against his neck. He cracked one eye open to find the man hovering above him with sweat pouring from his red face. The man pressed the knife harder as he noticed that Cas was looking. The blood, and now bruise, from the cane had his eye swelling shut. The leaking blood dripped onto the man’s hand. 

“Listen here. If you leave the city today, I won’t kill you. What’s it gonna be?” The man’s knife was slowly cutting into Cas’ throat and he felt his adam’s apple bob. 

“I’ll leave.” 

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Dean didn’t like his own house that much, but the solemn sense of terror that Jimmy’s house brought was worse. The stairwell was empty even though Dean always expected someone to descend it. 

Dean, quite frankly, hated the house. 

Ophelia didn’t seem to mind about how empty it was for having only 2 people in it. She bounced from one room to another just to show Dean all of the things she enjoyed doing. It wasn’t much, but it kept both of their minds occupied. Dean listened to Ophelia ramble about her little toy soldier when he heard the door open. 

He peaked out from the bedroom and slowly made his way down the staircase. Ophelia knew better than to follow. 

He wasn’t surprised to find Castiel laid out on the couch, but he didn’t expect sluggish blood to be dripping down his face and neck onto the couch. 

“Jesus Christ, what did you get into now?” 

Castiel’s eyes flew open before they focused on Dean. His lip curled in a look of disgust. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” Dean repeated, “I am taking care of your -- _Jimmy’s_ \-- child. What are you doing here? This isn’t even your house!” Dean felt himself stiffen. 

“I am being run out of town by a small mob. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find a suitcase and my safe,” Castiel added. He moved to stand up but was stopped by the pain in his ribs. He’d barely hobbled here earlier after the mob threw him out of the fish market. 

“Just -- just sit down for a moment. What did they do to you?” 

“They kicked me a lot, cut me, threw my cane at me. Likely other things, but I believe I was unconscious for a moment and now I can’t seem to remember. It was after they carried me out and threw me down on the cobblestone,” Cas grimaced. He shifted to sit up on the couch but ultimately gave up. 

Dean sighed, “Let me get something to brace your ribs with from the bedroom. I left my bag up there.” He took one last look at Cas before he turned away. 

Ophelia was peaking around the corner of the staircase when Dean finally ascended all 24 stairs. “What are you gonna do? He can’t stay in town,” She reasoned. 

“We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.” Dean passed her and headed into the bedroom. His bag was right where he left it. The leather bag was opened and Dean pulled out some cotton bandaging and some gauze with antiseptic. 

Ophelia and Dean descended the staircase to find Cas struggling to get his jacket off. 

“Stop it, you’re going to make your ribs worse than they are,” Dean chided.

Like a petulant child, Cas glared and finally stopped. 

“Why is the child here?” Cas said before he eyed Ophelia. 

“Because Jimmy enjoys her company, very much unlike you,” Dean said, “Besides, I need someone to hold the wraps on your ribs and you aren’t much help.” 

Dean had Cas sit up on the couch while he gently pulled the sleeves off of his arms. The shirt was next and Dean swallowed uncomfortably. While Ophelia was right next to him and this wasn’t the best time to become interested in Cas’ body, he couldn’t help it. He wished he could have taken the shirt off under different circumstances. 

He focused on getting the buttons undone while Ophelia began to get the wrap ready. The cut under his eye had finally stopped bleeding, and so it wasn’t of much concern now. 

Cas cleared his throat as he saw Dean staring at his now exposed chest. 

Dean had Ophelia hold the end of the wrap at one point and he slowly began to wrap it across Cas’ ribs. The muscles in Cas’ stomach rippled everytime Dean accidently touched them. 

Cas’ silence was sometimes interrupted by pained sounds and the occasional ‘sorry’ on Dean’s part. The wrap was finally secured with some pins and Dean finally got to work on Cas’ face. Sometime during the process, Ophelia announced that she was going to bed, since the sun was starting to set. 

“Your face is pretty beat up. I think there’s some splinters in your cheek,” Dean said. He tilted Cas’ face up and inspected the damage before turning to his supplies and grabbing his tweezers. 

Cas winced and clamped his eyes shut when Dean started to pull the splinters from his skin. Small pricks of blood welled up after each splinter was pulled out. 

Eventually, the wound was thoroughly cleaned with alcohol and covered. Cas had laid down on the couch to ge some rest while Dean had pondered around in the kitchen and searched for something to feed Cas. There was a few bites of sandwich that Cas would have to eat. 

The sun had finally set and now Dean needed to get the fire going properly. The house wasn’t very cold but the distraction helped Dean think. 

By now, Castiel was laid out on the couch and snoring away. Dean couldn’t help but find it endearing. Dean truly hoped that it was Jimmy that woke up instead of Castiel. He needed to apologise and get a real explanation from him.

And maybe he should talk about feelings like Ophelia said? The girl was right about most things and Dean’s retention of his emotions wasn’t helping much. Some brain doctor would say that his head was about to explode from all of the repression. 

Whatever. 

Dean still needed to decide what to do about the angry mob that was following Castiel around. Dean crept to the window and peaked out of the curtain. No one seemed to be creeping about in the dark, but Dean couldn’t be sure. 

Dean made sure that the front door was locked (twice, actually) and decided to retire to the couch that was opposite of Cas. Cas looked very peaceful in his sleep, aside from the obvious swelling of his eye and pained breathing. Dean studied his stiff body. Maybe Dean should check the rest of the house and see if there was more open doors that lead to the outside? Dean didn’t want some crazed people hurting Ophelia or, God’s sake, Jimmy. 

Dean wasn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or a kudo! Those are the only things that encourage me to write :)


	10. Bring It On Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas pulled on the handle and the safe popped open. It revealed something that Dean didn’t expect: a few powders in bottles and a vial of black-purple liquid. Dean had expected some kind of money, jewels even, but not some simple pharmaceuticals. 
> 
> Dean wondered what was inside of the bottles. He eventually voiced his concern, “The hell is that?” 
> 
> “Something very important,” Cas responded. 
> 
> “You’re not going to kill the city, right?” 
> 
> “Rash of you to assume that I’d want to waste some of my time to kill a city full of pseudo-intellectuals,” Cas said dryly. 
> 
> “Then what is it for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got some time to write something that isn't my DCHR fic! Quick chapter, but hopefully it's emotional enough to leave y'all satisfied :)

Dean did what he had to. He scantilly packed up some of his bags, some of Ophelia’s and a few of Jimmy’s before he decided to get that they needed to get the hell out of London. It wasn’t very hard to find a ship to wherever he wanted to go as he was part of the higher class and money was of the utmost importance. 

He left early the next morning, around 6 o'clock, to the train depot to find some information. He groggily made his way down in a buggy. The teller lazily told him that the furthest route they went was to the very southern tip of the country, somewhere called Saint Ives. Dean bought 3 tickets. 

The train left at 10 o'clock that morning and Dean decided to be spiffy about it. He went home and made sure that he withdrew some funds from his home safe, his necessary IDs and tried to pack only what he needed. 

When he came back to the house at around 7 o'clock, he found Ophelia trying to help Cas get out of the bed. The large man wasn’t being moved too far by an 8 year old, and so Ophelia gave up. 

When Dean entered the living room, Cas gave him a glare for finding him in such a compromising position. It seemed to be more filled with shame than anger. 

Dean didn’t respond to the treatment and instead threw the train tickets down on the coffee table that was in the middle of the living room. “We’re going on an excursion.” 

Ophelia looked up confused, “What’s an ‘excursion’?”

“It means that we’re going away for a while to make sure that _Jimmy_ is safe.” Dean gave a pointed glare back at Castiel. “We’re taking a train to Saint Ives and then finding a boat to God-knows-where.” 

“Saint Ives is a fishing town, correct?” 

“Yes; quaint and off the coast seems to be a reasonable goal for us.”

Cas humfed in agreement. “Do you even have enough money for that long of a train ride?” Cas sneered. 

“I’ll let you decide.” Dean threw the first class tickets at Cas from where they had been sitting on the coffee table. Cas looked them over and then continued his glaring, now directing it towards the tickets. 

“I packed some bags this morning, but I need you both to make sure that I have enough of everything and that you get your personal belongings,” Dean continued. 

“Henry can make sure that the house is fine for however long we’re gone,” Cas said suddenly. 

“So you’re actually going on this trip?” Dean raised a brow, “Surprising that you’d want to be contained in a box with us for longer than a few minutes.”

“I stayed here last night, didn’t I?” Cas spat. 

Dean didn’t respond, but instead decided to help Ophelia pack some of her things. “Let’s go pack, sweetheart.” 

She followed Dean up the stairs and into the master bedroom where she grabbed a few children’s books and some fancy looking paints from a shelf next to the bed. She put them all in a small rucksack and handed them to Dean. “I din’t have much things, Mistuh, but I’ve got some stuff to play wif.” 

“We might be able to get some more books from that room downstairs if you’d like?” 

“Nah. Those are too big ‘a books, Mistuh. I still gotta learn small, is what Jimmy said, and then I can read ev’ry book in duh world.” 

“It’s a long train ride; I can always help you if you need it,” Dean responded. How did this kid know how to melt his heart so fast? It was sacrilegious. 

“Thanks, Mistuh Dean,” she smiled up at him. 

Dean left the conversation at that and then went down into the kitchen to search for something to eat. He opened the ice box and noticed that there was a lack of sandwich that Cas was supposed to eat. Dean nodded to himself in approval. At least he could be counted on to nourish his body. 

Dean was pulled from his thoughts when he found a disgruntled Cas standing behind him. Dean jumped but tried to hide it when he finally noticed Cas’ presence. 

Cas’ eyes raked his body before he looked back up to his face. “I need help moving my safe.”

“Where is it?” Dean asked. 

“The back room.” 

Cas looked him over once more before he turned and hobbled towards the secret room that Ophelia had once hid in. Cas wheezed the whole way there and it made Dean cringe to hear him in pain, but this was Cas and not Jimmy, so Dean couldn’t say it was the same. But, hell. He was a doctor and he didn’t like seeing anyone in pain. 

Eventually, Cas got to the bookshelf/secret door and opened it with an ease of familiarity. The door swung open and allowed Cas to step inside of the hidden room. Cas went to the other side of the desk and then pulled a handle on the bottom of the desk and something gave a small click in the empty room. 

Cas stepped away from the desk and hobbled over to another bookshelf which he pulled away from the wall. Dean sighed into the open room, “Another secret door? How did you even get people to build secret areas? That seems illegal, if you ask me.” 

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t ask you,” Cas said while facing the bookshelf.

Dean didn’t respond but instead curled his lip at Cas’ back. God, he was so _frustrating_. 

The bookshelf opened to reveal a little safe that was set in a cubby in the wall. Cas stepped back and flicked his hand towards it. “It’s all yours.” 

Dean stepped up to the wall and tried to grab around the safe until he found a grip. He pulled the safe out of the wall and set it on the desk in the corner of the room. 

Cas began to pull a small key from a chain around his neck out. Dean tried not to stare at the sliver of skin that was shown while Cas unlocked the safe. 

Cas pulled on the handle and the safe popped open. It revealed something that Dean didn’t expect: a few powders in bottles and a vial of black-purple liquid. Dean had expected some kind of money, jewels even, but not some simple pharmaceuticals. 

Dean wondered what was inside of the bottles. He eventually voiced his concern, “The hell is that?” 

“Something very important,” Cas responded. 

“You’re not going to kill the city, right?” 

“Rash of you to assume that I’d want to waste some of my time to kill a city full of pseudo-intellectuals,” Cas said dryly. 

“Then what is it for?”

“To do what Jimmy wants; reunite me and him to recreate our old self,” Cas chuckled. “But if these 2 ingredients are mixed even a gram off, then we both get to die a horrible and gore filled death.”

“And what are you going to do with them?” Dean said warily. If Cas wanted to blackmail him, he was willing to do almost anything to protect Jimmy. And that hurt. It hurt to know that Dean was at the will of another, more evil person. 

“I’m going to keep them safe,” Cas replied with an unnerving look on his face. His chapped lips inched up into a faux smile and his blue eyes were looking quite satisfied. 

“Why?” Dean insisted. If Cas wanted money, or some other humanly satisfaction, then he would gladly give it to him. If he wanted to leave Dean, then that was something that Dean would have to let him do. God, if he wanted to hurt Ophelia? Dean didn’t even want to go down that train of thought. But… If he wanted something from Dean, Dean would have no choice but to serve him. And if he --

“I want to do what Jimmy wants.” 

“How would that benefit you?” Dean heard himself say. _Didn’t Jimmy hate Cas and Cas hate Jimmy? How would sticking the two back together help him at all?_ he thought. 

“I can’t _do_ anything in this pitiful city. Nothing will ever satisfy me enough that I feel -- _happy_.” Cas spat the last word out like it was an arch enemy. “In the few years that I’ve been here, I’ve ruined people’s lives and done horrible things, at least by your standards, and it hasn’t helped me one bit. These human values, money and sex and _drugs_ , they do nothing for me,” Cas scowled to himself. He still had the safe open with the vials and bottles still inside. 

Dean stayed quiet and contemplated the words that Cas was saying. Dean felt his chest tighten in emotion. He could understand so many of the things that Cas was feeling. The sick development of a careless routine was something that Dean had always suffered from. He felt trapped -- in his job, in his drab life, even in his wealth. He never felt enough to _care_. If his patients died, he just saw the end of a paycheck, not the lack of a wonderful life in the world. 

Maybe Dean _wasn’t_ so different than Cas. 

“Don’t you see, Dean? I don’t have a point in this world; it wasn’t built for me and I can never do enough to change it. Even Jimmy suffers.” Cas’ perpetual scowl was back now. He limped closer to Dean, “I think you, of all people, would be able to understand.” His eyes, dazzling in the low light, made Dean enraptured in their shine.

“I -- I think I do,” Dean admitted. Cas was so close that their noses were practically bumping each other. Dean felt so -- so _compelled_ to just reach out and touch his supple lips, smooth the crease in his brow and to experience the art that Castiel was. 

But he didn’t. Castiel was truly a part of Jimmy and Jimmy a part of him, but Dean couldn’t just _take_ like that without talking to Jimmy first. He had to keep himself reserved and away from the flames that Castiel tried to burn him with. 

Dean turned away from Cas’ intense gaze and looked towards the floor. His chest clenched at the contradiction between his heart and his mind. Dean felt himself begin to develop a headache. But, even with his mind clouded, he walked out the door. 

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Silence was all that filled Dean’s mind after that. He had gathered all of the bags, all of the food and supplies that they’d needed, and had brought them to the buggy that he’d hailed up front. The sky, now darkened by the beginnings of a summer storm, was festering like a cyst. Eventually it would crack open and pour rain down on the tops of their heads. 

Dean had taken his time in getting everything ready for lift off, and the clock showed it. It was nearing 8:30 in the morning and they’d had yet to leave the grand mansion. 

Sometime during the morning, Cas had told Henry to take care of the house in the time that they were gone and had paid him handsomely. Dean didn’t want to know where _Cas_ got the money. 

Dean helped Ophelia step up into the buggy without bumping her head. She had dressed in a shawl that Jimmy must have gotten her, as it had come from a shop downtown that Dean knew was rather expensive. She didn’t seem to know how much that Jimmy spoiled her. She, happy as always, was excited to go somewhere new for a change. 

Dean got in on the same side as Ophelia. He had tucked a book he found in his house under his arm and felt quite prepared for the journey ahead, even if he was troubled by this thoughts. 

The only thing left was to wait for Cas. Cas came hobbling out with a (new) cane that seemed to appear from out of nowhere. Dean didn’t offer to help him when he struggled to get himself into the buggy, no matter how much Dean wanted to. It was a game of wills and Dean was determined to win. 

Cas sat alone on the opposite side of the buggy. 

The buggy driver took the silence as a signal to depart from the house and move down towards the train depot that was near the fishing docks. The ride was silent; not even the buggy driver wanted to make friendly conversation. 

Dean didn’t know how he would be able to sustain 5 hours on a train with Castiel, but Jimmy? If Jimmy ‘came back’, so to speak, then maybe Dean would have his chance to speak to the man. And even then, the forced enclosure of a train would make Dean have to actually talk to the man instead of run away from his feelings like he always did in the past. 

Maybe the trip could be a good thing instead of what it really was: running away from London for the sake of safety. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [If you don't know what the DCHR is, check it out right here! I made it myself :' )](https://dchrchallenge.tumblr.com/post/173913029971/welcome-to-the-first-annual-deancas-historical)
> 
> [Want a prompt filled? Check out my tumblr!](https://origin-void.tumblr.com)
> 
> [This is what Cas' new cane looks like.](https://pin.it/d3ikasq45mq2xm)


	11. Fool in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean, look!” Ophelia said while pointing out the grimy window. 
> 
> Dean turned and looked out where her finger was pointing at a little sparrow that was keeping pace next to the train. After a few seconds, 15 at most, the bird dove away from the train and both Ophelia and Dean lost it. 
> 
> Dean laughed morbidly at the small birds courage; courage that he’d never have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. I guess I'll be giving y'all a double dose of chapter, especially since this one has a slow burn to it. Make sure to comment and leave a kudo! 
> 
> PS: I wrote this extremely fast and that means that there could be a lot of typos. Sorry.

Dean didn’t know what it was, but everyone always seemed to look at him funny. He was a normal looking man, maybe with one too many mental scars, but he didn’t look extraordinarily different than anyone else. 

Of course, the train depot attendee looked at him weird when he was trying to board the train with Ophelia and Cas close behind him. The man quickly stamped the tickets, but Dean felt the man’s eyes linger on the back of his head. Dean didn’t have any reason to be afraid; he was an understanding, respected doctor with no qualms with the law. But the treatment still left Dean paranoid. 

Dean helped Ophelia get settled in the first class section of the train. The little room had a buzzer for if they wanted anything from an attendee and a little section to sleep and eat and a little side room to go to the bathroom. 

Dean enjoyed the room simply because he wouldn’t have to sit next to Cas. 

Dean placed his bags and Ophelia’s in the little cubby above their heads. He made sure that Ophelia was settled before he pulled out some walnuts he got from a merchant and gave them to her. She wrinkled her nose but ate them regardless. 

Dean pulled out the book he had grabbed from his house, _Treasure Island_. The fresh looking book was begging to be read. 

Dean opened the cover and tried to study the little map on the inside cover but he was interrupted when Cas fell into a coughing fit. 

Cas seemed to hack up a lung before he finally wiped his mouth and tried to go back to his subtlety. He looked back out the window like the whole interruption had never happened. 

Dean felt a hint at perplexment at the whole ordeal. The man was clearly in pain, evident from his grimace from when he coughed, but he refused to talk to Dean who happened to be a _certified_ doctor. Dean wasn’t going to give him a botched lobotomy. Or _something_. 

Well, Dean could _probably_ perform a lobotomy. If Cas was willing to be his patient, then he could definitely --

Dean stopped his train of thought then the (literal) train lurched forward and started on its journey towards Saint Ives. The train and track were old, so Dean didn’t expect this excursion to be all sunshine and rainbows. 

The train slowly sped up and Ophelia looked out the windows, wide eyed and curious. Dean smiled at her innocence and then turned his gaze back to Castiel. 

Cas seemed in slightly less pain now as he looked out the window. When the train went over a large bump, he gently clutched at his ribs. 

Good thing that Dean brought his medical bag. 

Cas, continued to be oblivious towards Dean’s blatant staring. Dean wanted to help the man, but, once again, it was a game of wills. When Cas hurt bad enough, he would come running. Dean knew it. 

Dean could be childish enough to play his little games. 

“Dean, look!” Ophelia said while pointing out the grimy window. 

Dean turned and looked out where her finger was pointing at a little sparrow that was keeping pace next to the train. After a few seconds, 15 at most, the bird dove away from the train and both Ophelia and Dean lost it. 

Dean laughed morbidly at the small birds courage; courage that he’d never have. 

Dean turned back to the insides of the train and tried to focus on his novel. The beginning was drab and made Dean strain his eyes at the confusing use of words that didn’t exist in his vernacular. Eventually he gave up and allowed his eyes to wander over to Cas. The man had fallen asleep in the past 30 minutes. Apparently, Cas hadn’t gotten as much quality sleep as he had said he had. 

Dean resigned himself and tried to continue reading the literary nightmare that was _Treasure Island_. Dean wanted to personally punch the writer in the face. 

Ophelia poked Dean in the side and pointed over to Cas, “He’s droolin’,” she giggled quietly. 

Dean gave a little laugh at that. It was funny to see such a pompous ass doing something embarrassing, even if he didn’t know it. Dean liked irony. 

Ophelia, always easily bored, went back to staring out the window of the train. Occasionally, huge puffs of steam would float by from the front of the train. Ophelia always tried to reach out and touch them through the glass with wonder in her eyes. 

Dean gave up on the stupid book and set it next to him on the seat. He stood up, almost falling down when the train went over a hill, and grabbed his bag full of things to entertain himself. He managed to rummage through it and find a piece of paper, a pencil and a piece of string from the unraveled end of his bag. He set to work on creating a paper spinner for Ophelia. 

He drew an ugly bird on one side and a bird cage on the other side of the paper before he ripped it out in a circular pattern. Dean used the sharp end of the pencil to poke 2 holes on either side to thread the string through. He twisted his newly made toy and watched it spin. It didn’t work very well, but you could tell that the ugly blob-bird was supposed to be in the ugly blob-cage.

Dean gave up and handed it to Ophelia, “Here, I used to make a bunch of these as a kid.” 

Ophelia, ever excitable, grabbed t and started playing with it almost immediately. She spun it so many times that it broke and Dean had to make another one. 

Dean supposed that enough time on the train would make him go nuts, so he kept recreating the same design over and over. 

Eventually, they came to the first stop without a hitch. Dean could hear some passengers in the coach section getting off. Dean, excited by the opportunity, pressed the little buzzer to get the attendee to come into the cabin. 

A young, bright faced man came in and stood awkwardly near the door, “My name is Samandriel,” he whispered while acknowledging the sleeping passenger, “You called?” 

“Can we get a menu for the breakfast options?” Dean asked. 

“Sure thing,” Samandriel smiled. He briefly left the cabin to fetch the menu and then handed it to Dean. “Let me know what you want and we will get it to you as soon as possible,” Samandriel said while exiting the cabin. 

Dean handed the menu to Ophelia, “Pick something for me and you.” 

She grabbed the menu with glee and started to look it over before she turned back and said, “I still can’t read real well. Can yuh help me, please?” 

Dean almost facepalmed at his stupidity. “I’m an idiot, of course I’ll help you.” 

Dean pulled the menu closer to himself and tried to get Ophelia to read what she could. She mostly struggled on longer words that she wasn’t used to like ‘flambeed’ and ‘oysters’. Dean was surprised at her clear intelligence for working through hard words. 

Eventually they settled on some eggs and toast and signalled for Samandriel to come back. Samandriel quickly took their order and came back with a steaming plate of fresh eggs that wafted into the cabin. He set it on a secured table and let them be. 

Dean started to plate the food and serve it to Ophelia (with a napkin. That kid seemed messy, even if it was endearing). 

Dean snacked and tried to tell Ophelia some dumb jokes that she thought were absolutely hilarious. He had to quiet her down when Cas stirred at her shrill laughter, but otherwise stayed asleep. 

Dean found himself enjoying the experiences of being trapped in a small box with an adorable 8 year old and the man he hated _and_ loved, depending on how he looked at it.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Jimmy woke up to the sound of a soft but constant noise that was coming from somewhere in front of him. He opened his crusty eyes and found Dean and Ophelia playing some kind of clapping game. 

Ophelia giggled every time that Dean made a silly face to try and distract her clapping pattern, but she seemed resolute in winning the game of Pat-A-Cake. She started to clap faster, challenging Dean to his own game. 

Eventually, Dean’s hands got crossed and he almost punched himself in the face which made Ophelia laugh even harder. 

Jimmy gently laughed along with her until they both noticed that he was awake. 

She looked up at him and upon the realization that he was _happy_ -happy and not mocking them by laughing, she jumped up, ran over and gave him a crushing hug. The blinding pain from his ribs made him let out a whine and try to push Ophelia away. She went easily, but immediately had a look of regret on her face. 

“Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I din’t mean tuh hurt yuh,” she stammered. 

He stopped her with a small hand gesture, “It’s ok. You were just excited to see me and I can appreciate that.” He gave her his best smile before he looked over to Dean who seemed to be sulking in the corner of the train all while still being clearly concerned about Jimmy’s own health. 

Jimmy looked over to Dean and tried to will him to look at him. When he didn’t, Jimmy swallowed and looked away. “I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Dean finally looked up with shameful and pleading eyes. 

Jimmy tried to communicate through his words what he was talking about: Castiel, the whole situation, trying to advance on Dean when it was unwanted, disrupting Dean’s life, having Dean take care of Ophelia, and all of the other ways that he’d ruined Dean’s life. God, Dean’s practice must be suffering from Dean not being there -- and unannounced, nonetheless. Jimmy felt regret and guilt nestling next to his heart and making a home. 

“It’s ok, really,” Dean said suddenly. He stood up and rustled in the upper baggage shelf before he pulled his leather medicine bag down. “Let's change that bandage on you face,” he said politely. 

Jimmy felt a little spark of hope that Dean didn’t hate him. Maybe he could apologize enough that Dean wouldn’t want to kill him in his sleep. JImmy settled down in his seat and waited for Dean to begin to clean his cheek up. The small area that had the splinters in it was especially prone to infection is what Dean had said to Castiel. 

Dean sat down on the bench next to Jimmy and opened up his bag to find his ointment, gauze and tape. He pulled out the supplies and looked up at Jimmy as if waiting for a confirmation. Jimmy just laid his head on the headrest and closed his eyes. He then felt tentative fingers peeling off the old tape and gauze on his face. The soothing patterns of cleaning the cuts and applying the ointment made Jimmy want to fall back asleep again even if he was well rested. Jimmy sensed that Dean had finished dressing the wound. 

Dean finished and seemed to admire his work. He gently pressed the edges of the tape down, even if they were more that secure, and seemed to caress Jimmy’s face. Jimmy’s eyes seemed to catch on Dean’s soft looking lips and his breath hitched. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they inched ever closer together. The sun from the outside of the window caught in Jimmy’s eyes and magnified them like a jewel -- specifically, lapis lazuli. 

Dean took this as the perfect moment to finally let his lips meet Jimmy’s. He moved forward and --

The train hit a rough patch. 

Dean’s body flew forward and his head smashed into the window behind Jimmy. The pain blossomed behind his eyes, “Fuck!”

Jimmy, tried to pull him back from the window and get him back in his seat. “Oh my God, are you ok?”

Dean clutched his head to try and soothe the pain. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Dean opened his eyes and found both Ophelia and Jimmy unnervingly close. “I’m ok, I promise.”

They both seemed to not believe him and continued to chrowd close. Jimmy tried to push his hair back to inspect his forehead, but Dean waved him off. Dean knew that the moment was gone now, mostly because of the train, but he still felt like a fool. 

Samandriel quietly opened the door to the cabin and peaked in, “Are you folks alright? We had some turbulence but that will hopefully be the last on the track.”

Jimmy waved him off, “We’re all fine, thank you.”

Samandriel closed the door and went back to where ever he came from, unaware and certainly oblivious to what had (almost) happened in the cabin. 

Ophelia sat back down in her seat opposite from Jimmy. “Is there dessert?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a train for 12 hours straight, but only once. And I really don't know how trains worked in the 1890's so I kinda based this off of the little I know about Harry Potter. 
> 
> [If you want to know what I've been working on to take up all of my time, check it out right here! I made it myself :' )](https://dchrchallenge.tumblr.com/post/173913029971/welcome-to-the-first-annual-deancas-historical)
> 
>  
> 
> [Want a prompt filled? Check out my tumblr!](https://origin-void.tumblr.com)


	12. Letters I've Written, Never Meaning to Send

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attendant led them to a small resting place where Dean set down the bags and found a seat for himself. Jimmy seemed to have gone back to his old self as he was talking quietly to Ophelia with a big smile on his face. He would occasionally point out into the trees that were lined all down the train stop and then go back to talking in hushed tones. 
> 
> Dean’s chest throbbed with endearment. Maybe Dean was as sappy as he didn’t want to be? It seemed like his body was betraying him as of late. He would stare at Jimmy for too long and he kept getting jitters and he felt like he should always sit next to Jimmy… 
> 
> Dean had caught something and it was hard to admit to himself that he had a ‘love bug’, so to speak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, not beta'ed or edited. And pretty please with sugar on top: leave a kudo or comment? 
> 
> Here's some pining and confidence issues (AKA, 85% of Dean's personality).

Dean helped grab all of the bags before he ushered everyone off of the train, trailing behind both Ophelia and Jimmy. 

The small train stop was a layover before they finally made it to the quaint fishing town of Saint Ives. Dean saw some grunts hauling the garbage off of the train and others trying to refuel it’s coal supplies. They all had matching jumpsuits on and faintly Dean wondered if they were criminals. 

An attendant led them to a small resting place where Dean set down the bags and found a seat for himself. Jimmy seemed to have gone back to his old self as he was talking quietly to Ophelia with a big smile on his face. He would occasionally point out into the trees that were lined all down the train stop and then go back to talking in hushed tones. 

Dean’s chest throbbed with endearment. Maybe Dean was as sappy as he didn’t want to be? It seemed like his body was betraying him as of late. He would stare at Jimmy for too long and he kept getting jitters and he felt like he should always sit next to Jimmy… 

Dean had caught something and it was hard to admit to himself that he had a ‘love bug’, so to speak. 

Of course, Dean didn’t _love_ Jimmy. He barely even knew the man well enough to know his favorite color! Dean was being ridiculous in thinking that he could ever _love_ anyone. (Well, maybe except for Ophelia and Sam.) 

They all glanced up as the train let off a whistle and a billow of steam. Dean could hear Ophelia gasp and then giggle to herself. 

Dean watched the steam rise and eventually disappear into the atmosphere as he tried to distract himself from his thoughts. But, like a pink elephant, the thoughts wouldn’t go away. 

Dean felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and looked over to Jimmy. 

Jimmy had a strange look in his eye when he said, “We’re almost to Saint Ives.” 

Dean couldn’t quite place it, but it looked like he was genuinely happy to be so close to the little city. But it also could have been that he couldn’t wait to get away from Dean. 

Dean chose the latter and felt his mood sink even further. Of course Jimmy wanted to get away from Dean. All Dean did was cause turbulence in his life and scare Ophelia. If Dean was Jimmy, he’d get away from Dean as fast as he could, too. 

Dean felt a frown tugging at his lips as the conductor of the train waved the passengers back. They all began loading and suddenly Dean didn’t want to be stuck on the train for another hour with Jimmy and Ophelia. He enjoyed Ophelia’s company, but he would sacrifice it if it was good for her. 

Dean sat down in his original seat instead of next to Jimmy and tried to stare out the window. The feeling in his chest had gone from light to constricted and pained. 

Dean didn’t talk for the rest of the ride.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

When the train pulled up to its final destination, Jimmy was less than happy. Dean had seemed to close off the entire train ride and this left Jimmy, in turn, down in the dumps. 

Dean was so responsive when they had attempted to kiss and now? He was cold as ice. He refused to say anything the rest of the trip and gave everyone a severe cold shoulder, including Ophelia. 

To say the least, Jimmy was hurt, but he didn’t want to judge Dean so quickly. Maybe Dean just needed some time to process what had (almost) happened on the train? Jimmy knew that when he had first shown an interest in men that he’d been in a panic for nearly 3 days. 

Jimmy remembered what his mother would always say, _“Give it time, James.”_

Maybe he could listen to her for once in his life and actually wait patiently instead if in a flurry of panic and self loathing.

But there was also the part where he _hated_ his mother. Maybe he didn’t _truly_ need the advice.

Jimmy destroyed his thoughts like tea off a harbor and began to collect his bags. By now, Dean had already left the train and Jimmy wondered where he had gone. If he got lost, Jimmy had no way to contact him. 

Jimmy mentally slapped himself in the face. Dean was a grown man and didn’t need a babysitter, very much unlike Ophelia. He glanced over to where the young girl was putting her paper spinner toy in her bag with an air of tenderness like she didn’t want it to get wrinkled. 

Jimmy, despite his sour mood, gave a little smile at that. Ophelia grabbed her small bag and Jimmy grabbed her larger one as they exited the train. Her black, curly hair bounced as she made her way down the steps. 

She stopped at the bottom and waited for Jimmy to fully exit. “Where’s Mistuh Dean?”

Jimmy felt a dred pool in his gut. He didn’t want to lie to her, but how could he explain something like this to her? He decided on something simple, “He went for a walk because he didn’t like being on the train for so long.” Short and succinct would have to do it, even if it wasn’t a lie. Jimmy hoped that she wouldn’t ask more questions. 

Ophelia seemed to accept the response and continued walking down to the main building of the train depot. They entered the little room and then looked around for something to eat. Jimmy bought some lemon muffins from a vendor and then he and Ophelia ate them as they walked towards the center of town. 

The ocean spray could have been smelled from the depot, but the closer they got to town, the stronger it got until they could practically hear the pounding of the ocean. 

Ophelia’s face lit up when she saw a gull pecking at some old food on the ground. She threw the little bit left of her muffin at it and watched it attack. Jimmy couldn’t help but grin at the sight. 

They found a flea market that was in the harbor of the town and decided to walk around to look for something to buy. Jimmy bought a hemp and seashell necklace for Ophelia when she was turned around and was not looking. 

At one point, Ophelia ran over to a booth and pointed to a miniature, ivory carved model of a buggy. The gleaming white of it shined in the sun. “Can we get it for Mistuh Dean? _Pweas_ e, Jimmy?” 

Even if he was still startled by Dean’s behavior, how could he resist Ophelia’s begging face?

The ivory figuring was placed in a little cloth and handed to Jimmy by the vendor. He quickly thanked the older lady and placed it in the pocket of his trousers. The weight was something that couldn’t be ignored, but he still tried to. 

They finally left the flea market and finally headed to the place they wanted to see the most: the vast ocean that stretched out from the harbor and encased the rest of the world. 

The sun was starting to falter from its place in the sky, so there was a spectacular sunset forming. The orange and pink hues were striking in the sky and Ophelia skipped closer to the beach. 

The soothing melody of the beach was almost drowned out when Jimmy finally saw the back of Dean. He was facing towards the ocean’s waves and he had his eyes closed. His golden skin seemed to absorb all of the beauty from the surf and the sky. 

Jimmy felt himself about to say “Dean” but Ophelia beat him to it. Her excited shrill made Dean’s eyes snap open as he turned to the source of her voice. He gave her a timid smile and then turned to find Jimmy. 

Dean’s eyes weren’t as striking when they lost the source of light form the surf, but Jimmy still thought they were stunning. 

Dean looked pained as he finally looked Jimmy in the eyes. His eyes were strained and he had a hint of a frown on his face, like he was holding back pain from a great injury. 

“Jimmy,” he said simply, but in conveyed all it needed to as Dean stepped forward timidly. 

Dean must have felt unsure about himself and needed someone else to reassure him, because Dean slowly closed his arms around Jimmy in an awkward hug. The pressure from the hug meant that Dean had truly needed it. 

Jimmy was the one to pull away first. “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable on the train. I understand if you’d like to part ways, but I will be ever in your debt. You’ve done so much for the both of us.” 

Dean’s brow furrowed and he looked confused. “It’s not that -- what happened on the train, I wanted that, but I -- I don’t deserve you, this, none of it. I’ve hurt you and Ophelia one too many times and all I do is cause trouble. I’m _poison_ , Jimmy.” 

Jimmy brought his hand to rest on Dean’s cheek, caressing the bone of his under eye. “You’ve helped us more than you know, Dean. You took care of Ophelia, kept Castiel in line and you’ve been a genuine person in a sea of uncaring brutes. I… You’re _special_ , Dean.” 

Dean had a subtle look of shock on his face at the confession. He looked like he was going to refute Jimmy’s argument, but Jimmy stopped him with a look. 

“Dean, I need you to understand that I care about you much more than I should. You’re like a lighthouse in a storm. You try so hard to keep everything turbulent forced down, and you care so much, Dean,” Jimmy sighed. “I know what I’m saying is contradicting what Castiel told you in the library, and I hope you don’t get too confused, but sometimes things have 2 truths.”

Dean turned away from Jimmy and went back to facing the turf. His voice croaked as he began, “So -- you’re saying that I care too much but not enough, I am too angry but too compliant, too much but not enough? God, Jimmy, you’re losing me with these double meanings. I -- I can’t keep up with it.” Dean turned his head down in anger. 

“Dean, you’re much like Castiel and I: 2 different side of the same coin. The only thing different is that you’re truly human. It’s possible to make terrible mistakes and still be a good person. Your good and bad sides choose to show themselves at times, and others not. It’s ok to make a mistake, Dean.” 

Dean forced his eyes shut, tears forming at the edges and threatening to spill down his face. 

“It’s only what makes us human, after all,” Jimmy continued. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The DCHR Challenge has been taking up all of my time! I've gotten about 14k done, but I still have a lot to go. Interested? Check it out by following this link. ](https://dchrchallenge.tumblr.com/post/175360490831/welcome-to-the-first-annual-deancas-historical)
> 
> [Would you like a prompt filled? I can do that on my Tumblr.](https://origin-void.tumblr.com)
> 
> As per usual, not beta'ed or edited. And pretty please with sugar on top: leave a kudo or comment? As a bonus, I wrote most of this with a 2 year old on my lap. It was incredibly hard, to say the least.

**Author's Note:**

> Note of clarification: Castiel and Jimmy are the same person. Castiel is evil due to the split but 'Castiel' is really just the evil side of Castiel James Jekyll. This fic could be interpreted as Jimmy/Dean or Jimmy/Castiel but that's up to the reader.


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